


Bottled Up (or How Jaime Met Brienne)

by ShipperificWings



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Alternate Character Interpretation, F/M, Fluff, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Jon Snow knows something, Moving On, Other, Protective Siblings, WIP, bartender!Brienne, gentle Jaime, lgbtqai characters, the two knights that love each other even in alternate universes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-10
Updated: 2017-07-28
Packaged: 2018-10-17 02:34:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 22,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10584621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShipperificWings/pseuds/ShipperificWings
Summary: Jaime meets Bartender!Brienne and is charmed. Rom-comish plot ensues.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Phew, so here`s this one, which I have no frigging idea where it comes from. I own nothing, regret nothing and ship everything.  
> Part two will be coming soon.  
> And yeah, the title...It might change,  
> *banishes off to her den*

           

            He had been thinking of going off somewhere, renouncing his father beloved legacy for good, coming clean about _everything_ but many things still tied him there, for one he had a brother, a boy needed him more than what he needed their cruel, overbearing father. Tyrion was reason enough to stay and ignore Cersei`s lies.

            He was enough to make him _stay_ and fight. But what Jaime needed was more than a break, he wished to be free, far away from the dark walls of Casterly Rock, he dreamed of that, being somewhere else with Tyrion maybe his aunt Genna too. _With their family. It could be fun_.

            It had been fun once, back when Tywin still smiled and Joanna was there for them, before he decided to marry some strange woman, bringing Cersei with him.

            They had been close friends at first, and he had tried to make her treat Tyrion better, explaining to her how the child didn´t had a say on his appearance just as she had no choise regarding her own father`s passing and she had looked at him sweetly and embraced him that night.

            It turned out they did more than embracing when they grew older. Tywin had feigned ignorance for a while and Tyrion had known enough, as young as he was, but chosen to submerge himself into books and numbers as soon as school started.

            And so things moved at the same pace for the three of them, _he wanted them to be a family, Cersei wanted to do whatever she desired and Tyrion resented them all…_ Up until that day, in which he decided to turn up home earlier and found Cersei quite not so lonely with one of his father`s guards.

            _She had her eyes closed and he slammed the door and went outside._

            It was too much. He needed air. So he left and decided what he needed was, in fact, a time away. He would call Genna and ask her for help taking care of Tyrion, they boy was twenty already but he still felt the need to honor his promise to their mother.

_Take care of them, sweetling, they`ll need you now that I`m gone._

            He had sent both Genna and Tyrion matching texts, about him not turning up for their dinner.

            Tyrion: You okay?

            Me: No.

            Tyrion: Cersei did something, didn`t she?

            Me: We`ll discuss it later, Tyr. Now go to sleep, Genna will pick you up later.

            Tyrion: She never deserved you...

            Me: Have sweet dreams kid, I`ll text you later.

            He put his phone off and went to the closest bar he could find, thinking of ordering as many shots as he could just to blur the thought of Cersei and their family for a while.

 

 

             It turned out that, the closest bar Jaime could find was in fact, _The Night`s Watch._ It`s owner, a young man with dark hair and a surprisingly familiar face, welcomed him to the bar. Behind him stood two waiters, a red haired one and a dark haired girl, very similar in appearance to the man and  _a tad too young to be working there_  greeted him with drinks on the house.

 

             He gave them an attempt at a smile and the youngest one rolled her eyes.

 

“BRIENNE! We have another lovesick fool!” she screamed at the top of her lungs. She pushed his, surprisingly strong _and dainty_ , arms at him and brought a tall giantess forward. 

 

 _Lovesick fool. Was I so transparent_ , he thought amused at the girl`s general atittude. The other girl, an older woman but still years younger than him, waved at him , her best business-like face on.

 

             He smiled at her, he liked her already, all awkward business-like. She seemed like a gentle giantess, her nametag read Brienne. She had beautiful eyes in an otherwise homely face, hers were eyes that inspired songs and books. _Clear, calm, pretty eyes._

             The second regarded her ability to prepare a drink whilst working to get whatever it was bothering him out of his system.   

            “ _Excuse me, sir. Are you okay?”_ He looked up to answer _I`m not quite so old yet that you need to call me sir._ But then he stopped as he looked at her, she had a decidedly homely face and she was _strong_ , probably did more exercise than him by the look of her body, insinuating through her black pants and equally black shirt.

            “I`m okay, _sweetling"_  he said looking at her remarkable eyes.  

            She rolled her eyes and shrugged off his comment, clearly used to drunk men saying dirty things to her and the other women.

            The sudden sound of the owner rebuffing a drunk redheaded woman off came to them and he decided that _maybe it wasn´t only the women_.

            Brienne, the tall wench that worked out and had beautiful blue eyes, took him out of his reverie. _Okay, maybe he was drunk, when was the last time he gave so much regard to someone he liked?_  

            “I`m pretty sure drinking every wacky cocktail I can imagine until reaching morning light is generally accepted as a sign of _not being okay, sweetling”_ she repeated the nickname as mockingly as he had used it, but her eyes still had a warm quality to them that had him baffled. It showed kindness, a kindness he rarely saw in people.

            Cersei certainly hadn´t looked at him that way.

            “I ended a ten year relationship tonight” he grabbed the nearest cup and raised it up. Brienne had the good grace to do the same, an awkward smile spreading over her face. He couldn´t help but notice her crooked nose and the squared shape of her face as she did the gesture, and how it did nothing to hide her other feminine traits, her plump lips and bright blue eyes, with pale lashes and a constellation of freckles reaching past her neck. _How far would they reach?_

            He felt himself blush at the thought and was regaled with a blush adorning her face too.

            “So, heartbroken guy number 3 of the night. What`s your name?” she asks whilst dragging the bottles away from him. It`s only been a few minute but he`s a lightweight and this woman obviously realized it.

             Tyrion, his twenty year old little brother, would laugh at him. It was beyond embarrassing.

             “Jaime, my name`s Jaime”.


	2. Chapter 2

He did, in fact, turned up to the bar after the subsequent family reunion that followed his night out. Tywin had raged, Tyrion had backed him up and Cersei had sniggered but he struck a deal, if he was allowed to move with Tyrion to another one of their residences, he would think of accepting the place his father wanted for him in the company, which would leave him without Cersei`s presence looming over him and Tywin would give him the space he needed, satisfied by still having some control over the situation. It was the best he could come up with, and Tyrion had congratulated him afterwards for sticking to his choices whilst leaving Tywin without other options.

The following Friday he told Tyrion he would go out to the bar and the same happened the following week and the one after that... Before he gave it any thought he had made himself a regular guest at The Night`s Watch and become one of the Starks new acquaintances. Considering his family`s bad blood with the Starks, it had surprised him that the family members he saw were not repulsed by his connections with Tywin but rather embraced his attitude and cutting remarks about the clients that usually dropped by every Friday night.

He had attended the bar for two months now, sometimes two times a week, becoming accustomed to the Starks had been surprisingly easy and seeing that Catelyn wasn´t very fond of Jon in the first place and avoided the bar as much as any owner could, he hadn´t felt awkward so far. Not even with the little devil that was Arya Stark pointing at his own hopeless infatuation with Brienne.

So he had spent his days in an impromptu vacation product of Tywin`s deal with him and had decided he would experience time apart Cersei to rediscover what he used to be and what he was never comfortable but did anyway, because of his own careless need to please her and everyone around him; he went out, ate different food, saw new movies and talked to Brienne on a daily basis after asking her cellphone number. He was well aware of his attraction to her but he also knew he came with an unusual amount of baggage and Brienne was younger…she deserved better.

Knowing she was such a nice and seemingly balanced person didn`t stop him for wanting to see her. It made him happy to be around her, her honesty and seriousness made her a great listener and he found himself talking for once. He sought her out in every visit and paid attention to what she liked (for a level-headed wench she seemed very fond of romantic books), what she disliked and found himself surprisingly sharing bits of information about him with her, how he felt about The North (bloody cold but northerners honesty was refreshing if a pain in the butt sometimes), how he felt Tyrion was his best friend and will always be and how he just wished his father would show Tyrion he did cared about him. That last conversation had earned him a moment with Brienne he rather cherished, she had touched his hand and said that she was sure Tywin only needed a damn kick in the butt and that, listening to Jaime talk about him, she couldn`t help but admire Tyrion. They didn`t said anything else for it was maybe a bit soon to say anything else but the intensity of her gaze when he had looked at her followed him weeks after.

Tyrion had looked him in the eye after a particular night in which he had discussed Brienne`s no non-sense attitude and how she was hardworking and loyal to a fault and Tyrion had beamed at him and said he just knew Jaime would find someone nice someday.

“Had I known you would get along with her I would`ve introduced the two of you years ago” he added suddenly, as if the thought had just crossed his mind.

“And how did you met her?” he went to the fridge to retrieve the juice they had been drinking after Tyrion stopped drinking. He placed two giant sized mugs into the counter and served them equal parts f juice, handed one to Tyrion and waited for the story to start.

Tyrion drank it all obnoxiously quickly and gave Jaime that smile (the one that showed all his teeth and made his mismatched eyes glimmer) that used to mean he would have gotten them both in trouble.

“She was working for Renly for a while, was his personal assistant or something before she left without saying much after Renly got kicked out of the Baratheon`s business and next thing we know Catelyn`s stepson snagged her to the bar to do gods know what there”.

“How does working as a personal assistant relates to bartending? By the way she does her drinks you wouldn`t think she has another job”. And Brienne seemed comfortable in her own skin, in that rather shy way of hers, as if she was born to the job. 

“She`s one of Sansa`s friends. She used to live in the Stormlands but now she moved here up north to live with them momentarily. I know something went wrong with Renly as she seems to have left any company job aside”. And although he said he didn`t knew much, Tyrion`s eyes glinted with the power of knowing so much information.

“Gods, how does Tysha lives with you? You`re like a gossiping lady, are you working for Varys or something?”  
“I have a magical cock”.  
“And Jaime? I`m not the only one with information big brother, I`m pretty sure Sansa knows her fair share of info. So you might as well tell Brienne what you want her to know soon, before her friends do it” he said sobering up.

***

 

The following friday, he had less time to talk to Brienne, the bar was cramped with many of the Sarks usual It usually involved large quantities of different drinks and ended up with him helping them all to collect the northern men, which included a chubby man named Samwell, his wife Gilly, Edd, a soft-spoken man they called Satin, Robb Stark and Theon Greyjoy. The men usually ordered the strangest mix of drinks he`d ever seen outside of Bronn`s horribly sweet drinks. No human soul should drink that, he thought thinking of Tyrion and Bronn vomiting the entire content of their lunch that day at Tyrion`s apartment. He still had the sudden urgency to throw up when he saw coconut vodka in stores. They had bought the cheapest brand for sure and mixed it with other disgusting drinks. He drank proudly his (only) beer and tried hard not to stare too much at Brienne.

Among the things they had discussed, Brienne had given him a look of understanding when he had explained his issues with Catelyn Stark (mostly business and old family feuds), whom didn´t seemed as open minded as her children. How he had to stop business with the Starks because of his faher`s beliefs that the Boltons would offer a better deal to them, it all had snowballed after that and to the day Ned and Catelyn didn´t had a very good concept of him. At least they don`t know about Cersei, he mused as he watched how Brienne mixed some new shots and Arya served them to some guy with long black hair.

“Well, Cat`s amazing, really but she`s not very good at letting go" she didn`t added any more information, it was clear she thought it wasn`t her place to say anything else. Besides, by the way he treated the Starks, he could see she was nothing but fiercely loyal to people she cared about.

“Wench. You seem to know a lot about the Starks”.

She paused and arched a blonde eyebrow at him. Her lips curled forming the adorable smile he was now getting used to.

“Wench? What do you mean by that? I don`t recall this being a medieval themed bar. And I`ll let you know that people treat me as a Secret Keeper because of my job” she gave him a lopsided grin that irradiated her whole face.

“After seeing how you punched that drunk guy the other day, I kept thinking of you as the strong tavern wench, but I guess you can be Lady Brienne, Secret Keeper Of Drunken Fools, Garden of The Night`s Watch, Lady Commander of Drinks”.

She laughed at that, a genuine, open-mouthed smile that show her teeth and he found himself smiling deeply.

“Do you always smooth-talk women like that?” she asked lifting both of her blonde eyebrows, a glimmer of mischief showed in her usually reserved blue eyes and he wondered if she was just as interested as he was. If she felt that curiosity and spark of something despite of their fairly recent, okay utterly recent, meeting.

Sansa, bless her matchmaking soul had started cleaning the space around them without coming too close, he knew the Stark siblings gave him odd looks because of his curious behavior: he went to the bar and barely even ordered alcohol, maybe a beer or two and kept mostly making the (usually deadly serious) Brienne smile and talk; or so he`d thought they thought. Her approach made him want to snort, it resembled what one would do when trying to study a particular interesting specimen. He felt like a lion then, observed by some specialist in the subject that would determine his behavior while trying to attract a female specimen of the species. Except he was sure their behavior was often more direct and involved less awkward gazes and silent smiles. A lion, he decided, would know when a mate wanted to copulate. Gods, he`d been watching too many documentaries with Tyrion. 

Sorry Sansa, not much to observe tonight.

After the drunk northerners left the bar singing The dornishman`s wife (the bloody remixed version in fact) everyone mostly cleaned everything that was to be cleaned and retreated to their home, Jon handed Brienne the keys and gave her his own version of a smile, that small almost invisible thing all northerners did. They feel they`re too manly to smile properly had joked Bronn once recalling his only meeting with Ned Stark. He, of course, had a nicer version of the facts but Bronn was Bronn and he would made fun of The Seven if he thought they existed just for the hell of it.

He felt more secure of himself without the Stark army surrounding him, so they talked about their lives. Her general inability to make people understand her, her past trouble with men believing she wasn´t apt to do her job; which she didn´t specify but he knew involved her past work as Renly`s assistant and somehow found themselves submerged into the romance subject.

She had asked if his big entrance to the bar that first day had been because of having problems with a partner and he had laughed, a big open mouthed laugh that had her laughing in turn as he had explained to her that yes, he had broken up with a female partner.

“You never know with handsome men these days, not that it bothers me. I say cheers for true love found as long as is consensual and legal” she said, somewhat stuttering and he raised an eyebrow at her. Was she nervous?

“I don`t have a problem with it either. But I must let you know Brienne, that I`m very much straight” he knew his face was a little too close for comfort, but he was a little bit drunk (okay a lot) and his senses were blurred, still he knew he had come a little bit too strong on her. So when she moved to close the space between them and whispered. he nearly dropped his cellphone to the floor.

“Good” they were frozen in place and he kept glancing at her lips. They were big, pink lips, so kissable that he found himself staring at them shamelessly. Suddenly, she moved back to her place an empty cup in her hands, her gaze mysterious once again. She knows how to keep things to herself.

“Brienne, I`ve been meaning to tell you. Do you want to go and watch a movie?” he asked in what he expected was a less cringe-worthy sounding way.

He was rewarded with a smile that lighted the whole world.

“I`d love to. But, Jaime, I`ll pay for the popcorn” she said sternly before winking at him.


	3. Chapter 3

Watching movies with Jaime had been slow, painful torture. Of the good kind. When the first scene with the ghost-girl appeared on his flatscreen (she`d brought popcorn as she had promised and he`d offered his and Tyrion`s apartment to watch them) she`d kicked and repressed a scream when they watched the whispering woods, in that horrible scene she had also had to deal with a body hanging, a three-headed man with crow-like wings all as the protagonist had to escape the ghost through a wild maze surrounded of roses (that was also quite horribly obsessed with her). To say it had been an exaggerated film would be as exclaiming the sky was blue. She felt quite ashamed that, even when it was horrifically exaggerated she had repressed a few screams and had even gripped Jaime lightly on the shoulder once before she put back on her usual confident mask.

He had stared at her in silence. His eyes crinkled and he laughed for the longest moment at her jumpiness. She`d found him beautiful then, even more beautiful than when he had entered the bar looking so lost and she`d stared at him so much that Arya had pointed out that she was staring at the pretty man. Like a lot more than she should. She`d been so happy to attend him, so eager. Because, yes, he was handsome, but he seemed interesting; as if there was story inside of him waiting for someone to hear it out. He`d also been very obviously sad and she knew a thing or two about broken hearts and lost hope, something that she knew deep down Jaime understood. All she was expecting was spending time with someone she liked and that for once seemed sincere enough. Like he`d tell her off if he wasn´t interested unlike the others before him that had either taken everything she had offered readily or had tried to give so much, so fast that had made her feel choked. 

She was by now confident enough to be in this kind of situation with a man, but she was only human and the contact with Jaime was overwhelming her. She was hyper aware of him, the way his throat moved when he swallowed the popcorn, the way his eyes shined under the dim light of the small lamp that lightened the living room, his own faint freckles invitingly adorning his features, freckles so very light that she could only see now that she was sitting so close to him. They weren´t touching and the atmosphere felt heavy with anticipation of something else. What it was and what it meant for them, she couldn´t be sure, although her body seemed to have a good idea, as she felt herself getting warm in very interesting places. She might have blushed too, but The Seven knew she was hot and it had little to do with it being August. 

She crossed her legs slightly thinking of getting a shower, no, better to have a very cold and soapy bath. Maybe even with scented candles now that she thought of it….

Jaime shifted next to her and put the goddamned movie on its place. He eyed her before washing the bowl where they`d be eating popcorn, ignoring her protests about split work.

“It`s no big job wench, no rocket science, just washing the bowl and ordering a pizza that you can pay if it makes you feel better” he added just when she was about to protest.

What she wanted to do was ask for another date but she was chickening out of it. She`d been fighting with herself the whole night. Mainly wondering if it was the right moment. Was it too soon to ask him out again? At first she tried to brave it through by grabbing casually the popcorn and moving her feet up and down in slow rhythm, it`s what she did when she was nervous and she felt a little self-conscious at having a date with an older man and dancing her feet around like a nervous schoolgirl. She was twenty six, not sixteen, she`d dated other men! But it had also only been ten years since that and she remained a lot like her younger self, if slightly stronger. 

At first Jaime had had his hand very close to her arm, but neither of them were touching, maybe he was nervous too. But gods how could he when he looked like that? So she traced her fingers around his arm and was rewarded with his own hand tracing back her hand. And that was when, after a particularly horribly scene, she had dropped any pretenses of being brave and had screamed outright. She had effectively chickened out twice, by not asking him out and getting scared as the seven hells. Damn essosi cinema and damn her shyness winning this time. She knew he was surprised but what could she do? She had been terrified when he suggested the movies but had decided, that since with Jaime things seemed so vastly different to what she usually experienced with men, she would at least give him a chance. So she had let it be a movie of his choice. Besides, she liked horror movies, they just made her fidgety afterwards.

“What`s that I`m sensing Brienne Tarth? Are you scared of a movie?” He had asked when, at the end, she had stayed next to him very carefully avoiding staying behind. She had blushed then, that horribly splotchy color that she made sure to avoid most of the time.

“Well, this will sound stupid but Father wouldn`t let me watch many horror movies back when I was young, so I`m a wimp when it comes to those” she had never told soul, but she knew Renly suspected it and Hyle had almost found out… 

“So, that means you`re stuck with me on your way back to your house”. Now he finally sounded somewhat remarkably smooth. 

 

Does he knows he is being very smooth? I mean he`s beautiful, smart and gods, he`s cute. She wanted to kiss him when he did that dimply smile. So she leaned in and smiled at him.

She laughed an honest-to-God laugh when he had laughed at her fear. Her eyes had closed then, she had savored the moment. Having whatever it was she had with Jaime made her happy. And going by his appearance he was happy too. 

He stopped laughing and looked at her, his eyes darkened and a look of understanding passed between them. She`d never met anyone as intringing and sweet as him, she`d worry later about going slow or fast. She`d allow herself this. So she closed her eyes as he leaned in, the tip of her broken nose grazed his elegant nose and he grazed his lips tenderly against hers. He slid his arms around her back and she complied, moving her own arms to rest as his neck although he was smaller than her by a few inches it didn´t felt awkward or uncomfortable. They kissed a while at her house`s entrance. She had his smell on her sweater, she tickled everywhere his beard had touched her and she wished she could have him for herself the whole night, but she had far better sense than inviting someone she met just a few weeks before to the comfort of her house.   
Her home was her temple. 

When he left a couple of minutes later (that felt like a few seconds later and a few hours later smultanously) she entered her small apartment with a small on her lips, it had been wonderful. She couldn`t remember the last time she had a date like this, were she did little but she felt like she did so much. Maybe when she had tried to fix things with Hyle? She had tried but he had been too fixed in having her take her clothes off for him and then she had decided it was best to cut things off before she got hurt. He hadn´t been happy with her and had said nasty things that still resonated through her to the day.

She mentally kicked herself for thinking of such things when she was with a man that had nothing to do with Hyle. He was sweet and whatever intentions he had she knew somehow that he would voice them. After all, he had been pretty straightforward from the beginning, she had no reason to doubt their exchange. Their dynamic was good for them, it didn`t make her feel insecure or overwhelmed. 

She knew by now that Jaime had baggage he hadn´t talk about his family but Catelyn had filled her in and so had Sansa and Margaery, which left her with a mountain of gossip that mostly painted him in a negative light, but she was intrigued and her friends had assured her that they had also known a good side of him, that he was a gentle man that like his business to be solved bloodlessly, and Margaery had added that he was very loyal to his family and employees, and she trusted Marge`s instincts as much as she trusted Sansa`s heart. Catelyn was the only one that refused to bless their relationship but had been smart enough to ask her to be careful especially with Cersei, which she had assured her, was a dangerous, unstable person.

She briefly touched her lips and wondered if what she was doing would lead her to heart break, but at the same time she cared most about trying.

She wasn`t a craven after all.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Family, duty, honor? They reflect.

This wench will be the death of me. He thought, before leaving Brienne safely at her place, feeling lucky and slightly nauseous at the same time. But such were the side effects of liking someone like her, gentle and honest like no one else. 

She was more than honest, she was also lovely and who knew such a self-assured woman like her could kiss like that? There was no calculation on her kisses, she was gentleness and all-consuming fire and he had felt sparks just from touching the rough skin of her lips. She`d tasted of salt and strawberries and he had thought at the moment that it was her flavor until he reminded himself it was chapstick and the taste of popcorn lingering on her plush lips. Lips he wished to have a taste of again.

But he also wanted to know her. The process of actually getting to know someone outside of his family had been impossible until now. All his life he had stood by Cersei’s side wittingly, perhaps even as a fear of knowing something else outside what they had, now he saw what Tyrion meant by saying what they had was toxic. What he thought Tyrion was wrong about however was his somewhat rose-tinted vision of his brother as an innocent prince, after all this time Jaime was as guilty as Cersei of carrying such unhealthy life style by letting what should be a bond based on loyalty become an ugly shadow of betrayal. He’d always know he could pursue other relationships, friendships, work relationships, even sexual ones but he`d only had the courage when confronted by the cruel reality of what they actually were; a person pulling the strings of another that had little self-respect.

All things considered he had chance to make things right with a person that regarded him as an equal, but for all he knew, they may be as incompatible as his last mummer of a relationship. It was a thought that may be too dark for the moment, they`d just started doing whatever it was they were doing, and he wasn´t about to get suspicious of her; confidence was an important key to the kind of relationships he wanted to build now.

And that reminded him of Tyrion and Cersei. Repairing his relationships would surely mean he’d had to either establish a normal sibling relationship with Cersei (which seemed more and more impossible as time passed by and she kept leaving him messages he was sure to never reply to) or completely vanish from her life. All in all he should be getting back to working into something he actually cared about, a project unlike the ones he’d been doing at Tywin’s company that could lead to disaster. And yet independency was something he craved and was a key, an essential one for moving on.

It was curious how people thought he didn’t plan anything and just did whatever he felt like doing. That was as far away from him, the true Jaime (not the watered down version he had pretended to be under father’s pressure) but it had been exacerbated by his own fear of letting people know who he was.

He rolled into his back thinking of family and duty and a sudden realization came to him, he’d had a duty with himself and he needed to fulfill it too.  
…

Brienne’s father was sick. Again. As she had felt before, she couldn’t wait to reach Tarth, remove him from the responsibilities that came from taking care of two girls alone, with a depleted budget and a castle that had seen better days when the Tarths had been Royalty and the Evenstar wasn´t a mere symbol. The weight of being a sibling was heavy on her shoulders, there were mouths to feed, medicine to buy and children that needed someone stronger than her father and she just knew at some point she`ll have to step back from the life she has built and take care of them as her own. She had caught herself thinking of the girls as her children more than once and thinking of it makes her feel so divided; on one side she loves her sisters and the other side of her that sees this as a possible loss of her independence, the one thing she had worked so hard to get since the moment she decided she would start working.

And Jaime. They hadn´t seen each other for a whole week, something normal considering he still had ties to his old job and she had taken on even more work as she was afraid of the money never being enough. The Starks had protested and made her promise she would take things one step at the time, but no one felt her burden as she did, Sansa had never had to think of her sister as a daughter and Arya was as young as the rest. Only Jon seemed to understand the burden one felt when in need of money; he`d always felt as he needed to work in order to prove something to Catelyn.

The loud beep of the world´s most generic ring tone, the one she had set on her phone, woke her up her thoughts:

Jaime: Stag for your thoughts? 

Me: How do you even know I’m having any thoughts? I could be on a party for all you know.

Jaime: I don´t need to see you to know that you’re thinking. If I close my eyes for a while I can picture you biting that generous lower lip of yours as you think of working harder.

Jaime: That came out completely wrong. You know what I meant.

Me: I was thinking of home.

Me: It´s possible that I´ll have to be absent from here for an extended period of time.

Jaime: Is everything okay? Can I call you?

Brienne: I rather we talk tomorrow if you´re amenable. Calls creep me out for some bizarre reason.

Jaime: No need to explain. I´d rather see you anyway.

Brienne: Good night, Jaime.

Jaime: Night Brienne.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Now that he looked back at the conversation, he wasn’t sure how he could pull this off..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi. This chapter it’s slightly bigger than usual (hopefully you’ll see why up next) and it also shows how this world’s Jaime and Brienne work. I’m equal parts excited and terrified to post this but what would be life without a little adrenaline? 
> 
> And now I’ll shut up and maybe I'll make a non-religious prayer circle for GRRM and Winds of Winter (seriously he's reaching CLAMP's levels of hiatus now).

 

Now that he looked back at the conversation, he wasn’t sure how he could pull this off. It was going to be difficult –and reckless too- maybe even impossible, but he was giving it a try anyway, because he never backed out of a challenge before and their friendship (he guess that’s what it is at this point) is rapidly becoming the reason he looked up to things. It was also an unspoken truth between them that there was the anticipation of it all been leading to _something_ and it now was sinking on him that they had made no actual compromise there and Brienne was free to see where her own path would lead her now.

 

_Brienne had been uncharacteristically nervous the next day, the stoic disposition he associated with her was nowhere to be seen and she looked for a moment helpless. Her head lifted and her thick lips formed that close lipped smile that was so uniquely hers and he had felt calm._

_It was a good thing to know that whatever happened her spirit hadn’t been broken._

His first thought was that something bad had clearly happened to her. Her demeanor had unintentionally reminded him of himself all those weeks ago, when the world had seemed to crumbled around himself

 

They had sat on a small café run by the Heddle family and talked about seemingly innocuous things she had seen the days he hadn’t attended the bar (Sansa had dyed her hair blonde and she didn’t liked it, Jon was sneaking out with the new bartender; they’d both agreed it was damn time Snow got some) until he had sighed and asked her to please explain what had happened that required her to be absent. She had given a sip to her coconut drink and assessed him with a look that he’d done his best to return in a manner that spoke of comfort and calm.

 

She gave another sip at her non-alcoholic cocktail (she wouldn’t drink alcohol at her job hours but the habit seemed to carry outside of it) and explained how she was the sole caretaker of her siblings and father.

 

“You see, Tarth, the castle, that is,” she added hastily at his raised brow- “is in need of repairs and remodeling…a task that requires time, money and skill. For the most part Galladon (my older brother) has the skill to do so but the time is something difficult to have with two younger sisters and a wife to take care of. He’s been doing his best to work with what he has but he’s falling apart, everything is on his shoulders and I have to be there for him at least until we decide what to do with Tarth and the girls” she had a faraway look that made him wonder what else was happening there. _Was there something about Tarth that she wouldn’t want to see? Someone?_ He was an expert of that look she was exporting now. That faraway look that meant you went “away inside”.

 

Besides, something about the way her voice cracked when she explained her father being sick and the girls being in need of her assistance made him want to hold her, but as things went for them, he feared being too forward, they were on the tricky territory where they were getting to know each other, kisses or not, he’d rather not force anything.

 

He resigned himself to gently grasping her hand, a light squeeze and a look later and he knew he’d done right. He did however voiced what he feared was harsh for them to say but it was necessary to do so.

 

“So what does that means for us?” he grimaced at his own words. It seemed harsh to speak to her that way and even he had more tact than to simply ask that, but he didn’t care for formalities and hiding behind pleasantries, he liked Brienne, he felt there was a window for something else between them and stretching the time until they discussed it made no sense.

 

She took a deep breath and looked at her hands before giving him that honest look she gave him with her blue eyes. Eyes that seemed to be able to grasp the contents of his mind the minute he looked at them, but gave him the choice to explain, always giving him a way out. It was odd, he barely knew her and they had skirted from discussing things that were too personal, it was a very precarious balance for such a recent relationship regardless of the intensity it evoked on him.

 

“We keep on contact, go slow with everything? Look, we haven’t discussed anything that’s happened and I think we can safely assume it’s going to take some time before we do so whether I come back soon or not” as usual her honesty caught him off-guard. He knew his past experience was _unconventional_ but she had

 

He thought of it, it seemed much too soon to promise anything else. To know if what they had would work. Hells, they didn’t know one another yet.

 

“I see. How long until you go there?” his throat felt a bit dry, he had no right to care so much so soon and yet what he was seeing on her face, the hesitance and the way her hands were trembling slightly said something else. It felt like they were frozen in time for a moment and then she answered.

 

“With my job commitments and all the things I got to pack? Around five or six days”. She had her hands folded on her lap and stared at them, her eyes downcast as she did so.

 

He cleared his throat, making her look back at him, he stilled, words that had a direct meaning were not his forte in the sense that he was straight to the point to a level that was off putting for most people. What he was going to say was insane but he cared very little for appearances and half-truths and he had a sense Brienne would appreciate honesty, brutal as it could be.

 

“I guess suggesting to go there with you is too soon for us?” it was a desperate way to achieve a solution and he was way aware of that.

 

The truth wasn’t quite so ugly but theirs was an unusual situation anyway and he feared Brienne would simply step up and leave. What could represent a few weeks old _relationship_ when faced with a hardship? With family commitments? But to him it had meant something. He’d step back too if she didn´t felt it was important anyway.

 

It didn’t felt like it was the end of their story either.

 

“Yes…there’s much to be said and done” she seemed lost in thought and he wondered if it was the way she did things usually. Had people been so uncaring that she felt like she had to give that much thought to what she was going to say? He waited patiently until he decided it was probably not helping their current predicament.

 

“What does that means?”

 

“It means I won’t rush anything with you now. It means I care for you and would keep in touch as far as my commitments let me.”

 

As far as it all went, he understood it. If this had happened months ago he’d be snarling at her in contempt for not daring to be honest and would tear at her with until they both parted on bad terms, but he was hardly the same after Cersei. It was ironic how little thought he had spared to his sister, granted the wounds were there still but he didn’t yearn for her the way he did before.

 

He cleared his throat and set his features on a mask of understanding -careful to show just what was enough-it wasn’t that he didn’t cared about her, in fact, it was entirely possible he cared too much already.

 

“When will it be?”

 

“Next week…Galladon said he could give me a week to think, he knows how much I value my job here.” She seemed as lost as him with the entire situation. It had all seemed so simple until now but life didn’t worked that way, it didn’t had a magical schedule of how things would happen so you could avoid them, life was at times were absurdly fast waves clashing against you on high tide, it was equal parts dreaded and expected to had your life turned upside down.

 

“Maybe we should spend this days apart,” she looked horrified to be saying that, regardless of the determinated set of her shoulders “or maybe we could spend them apart and talk?” the ‘we don’t have to keep any commitments to the other’ was implicit there but he got the message quite perfectly. She was giving him a way out.

 

And what was he supposed to say?

 

 »Well, it’s too late for me wench, but I could wait for you. Just _don’t_ pretend what we have it’s not important.

 

No, sometimes – he thought – sometimes it was better to wait and see. Things weren’t built on a day and relationships didn’t escape this.

 

“Alright, we’ll write to each other.”

 

He felt rather than saw Brienne arch an eyebrow at him. The weird atmosphere of solemnity was no more and, when their eyes crossed, hers reflected a myriad of things she didn’t voice. Did she had to have her walls so high all the time? He was trying too, whatever her baggage was, his would put out the most pious person in the world and here he was trying anyway.

 

“And Brienne?” he said watching her intently.

 

“Yes, Jaime?” she had that look still, the one that seemed to say she wasn’t falling for any of his tricks.

 

“Stop judging” Who would have known the free-spirited wench he had known had a judgmental streak to her? But then again he was usually less charming and his dark humor could make a saint turn into a murderer just to get rid of him. There was a great deal of true concerning how they haven’t known each other as they would have normally and how far they could be to knowing one another.

 

She laughed and her hand pushed his arm playfully, he stuck his tongue out at her making a teenage girl from a nearby table chuckle at them. Brienne, despite her reassured mask being back on, had the telltales signs of a blush on her cheeks and neck but he decided to be charitable to her.

 

It was good to see her smile, he didn’t want to spend that last week with her being miserable and besides, when she smiled like that it made his whole world brighter.

 

An idea crossed his mind suddenly.

 

“Brienne?”

 

“Yes?”

 

“Do you want to hang out with me and my genius little brother?”

 

She looked at him and her lips parted forming an ‘o’, at that time she looked like an unusually large owl with her big blue eyes blinking slowly, processing the oddity he was proposing to him. Finally, a look passed between them and she smiled crookedly at him.

 

“I’d love to”

 

…

 

After they picked the most extravagant sweets and split the bill (Jaime had rolled his eyes at her insistence that she paid what she chose) their trajectory from the store to his apartment was walked with a good those of his brother’s most infamous stories – particularly one involving Tyrion and a pair of essosi escorts and Jaime walking in on the worst scene an older brother could find.

 

“ _He was sixteen, Brienne. I was divided between giving him a lecture and shutting up because Gods knew that boy felt lonely._ ”

 

At the mention of loneliness he had looked at her briefly ad she had caught a glazed off look on his eyes and she had instantly regretted not telling him more. If there was someone that understood solitude and heavy burdens was Jaime Lannister.

 

But duty was a thing and _desire_ was something else.

 

They hadn’t talked anymore about them but she was burning with the desire to hold and touch and _feel_ him under her skin, _envelope him into her and never let him go_ was what her body was screaming at her. But how could she? It seemed that promising anything would only lead to complications and hurt and she dreaded it would all be in vain at the end.

 

She was needed elsewhere. And oaths were unbreakable to her.

 

And she had an habit to let herself be drown on oaths, it wouldn’t be healthy for them to simply assume it would work out easily.

 

The apartment, sadly, wasn’t the great bachelor pad she would have expected of a Lannister. It was a cozy, small thing with a few pictures here and there –one of the two of them wearing matching smirks and suits in deep Lannister red and two other pictures with family members she was sure Sansa would know about- Tyrion, for his part, was everything promised and more. The apartment –if it could talk- had the misfortune to be owned by two men that displayed an aversion to luxury and order like no one else she had met before. The couch was a hideous thing with a plastic wrapping that was dusty and generally disgracefully covering a portion of it and, like a children’s bad version of gift wrapping - it left portions uncovered- where it was obvious the two adult men were too lazy to tidy. The rest of it looked so horrific that she didn’t wanted to think of it, like a bad memory or embarrassing memory of childhood it was blocked, hidden away in the part of her brain reserved for her teenage crush on Renly and her unfortunate love for striped knee high socks.

 

Now that she thought of it, Renly was in fact as untidy as Jaime and Tyrion were-she guessed it was a Brienne thing to become attached in unusual ways to untidy, blunt men with ridiculously good appearances.

 

Brienne was no stranger to messy homes and messier siblings but even she felt the need to tell Jaime to please, pick up a goddamned broom or better yet – take all the things outside the apartment and cleanse it with equal parts disinfectant and chlorine. Let the chemicals wash it all out.

 

After playing the world’s most unfair game with the guys and Tysha (a pretty brunette girl with an air of steel about her that Brienne came to admire instantly) she had promised to never play Uno with them again- Tyrion was cunning and downright evil and Jaime kept rage quitting every time his brother and his girlfriend would team up against him with a tower of +4s that Brienne was quite sure could only be achieved by cheating.

 

She had –untidiness and cheating aside- enjoyed herself and forgotten all about fears and separation. Her world had been reduced to laughing and giving Jaime briefly heated glances and awkwardly looking away when Tysha and Tyrion would start making out like they were teenagers.

 

Unknown to her, the night had ended with a kiss once again -this time on her forehead- as Jaime took her to his room and placed her on his bed.

 

She slept like a babe –all relaxed limbs and awkward posture- and he just blinked at the ceiling of the living room, he’s eyes focusing on a little spot above it with a star shaped mark.

 

He prayed he’d done what was right.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which jaime is obnoxious and everybody knows it but Brienne. A small chapter with a lot going on o/

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so, I had a very different idea of how this was going to go but sometimes this characters write themselves, even if you're only borrowing them. might edit it later and all.
> 
> Also, as always, internet is an abstract concept where I am and so I'm always depending on very expensive places where I can use internet (yes, it's like the nineties in here minus the cool dark-colored clothing).

“Wake up, sleeping beauty!” bellowed Jaime on her ear and she jumped and tackled him to the floor. He grimaced and rubbed his back and he was greeted with the sudden image of Brienne wearing shorts and a fine camisole that left little to his imagination. The outline of her nipples was clearly visible through her sweaty shirt.

 

She grumbled and threw a pillow at him. He laughed and reached for her hair.

 

"Is this how you're paying me for giving you my bed to sleep in? Chivalry has really died."

 

"I'm sleepy and tired and have to meet Catelyn and Ned on a few hours and you're a pain in my ass-"

 

"If I was you'd tell me yourself."

 

She groaned, the man was incorrigible. "It's way too early for you to flirt so flippantly. I can't even remember what my middle name is at this hour!"

 

"Alright. Let me offer you something. If you wake up early I'll play a game with you."

 

"That's straight out of a horror movie, Jaime." Her brain was so sleep fogged that it came out like _jaaime_. But Jaime decided his need to know her was bigger than his need to tease her mercilessly. It was after all, a matter of time.

 

"Shoot me then."

 

"That escalated quickly."

 

"Jaime. I meant with your questions and you bloody know it," she murmured annoyed. Her head finally came up as she sat cross-legged and covering her mouth.

 

"I think we're past morning breath issues, Bri." He said rather amused at her bouts of shyness. "Besides the very tall wench I know wouldn't back off something because of pesky little things like bodily odors." She looked at him as if he was insane.

 

"I didn't know you could be a know it all. You're quite wordily for such an early hour."

 

“It’s _nine am, Bri!_ ” he replied battling his lashes at her. It hadn’t failed him until now.

 

 

“It doesn’t matter you’re cute. Also, I work at a bar Jaime. Its too bloody early _for me_ ”

 

"Thank you. I take pride of it and my wit. Lannisters are fighters and the sharpest weapon is the tongue. That's what aunt Genna always says." He added whilst performing an elegant bow as he spoke. She heard herself giggle. In spite of herself Jaime Lannister was a mistery she wanted to unwrap and study carefully, with a magnified glass if possible.

 

He stepped up and picked up a cellphone- probably his, a fancy thing she could probably only afford if she sold the scraps of her heritage- and she nodded to herself remembering a time at which buying something like that wouldn't have been a problem with her.

 

"So what is this I hear about Lannisters being filthy rich?”

 

“You’ll see soon enough wench that with Lannisters, almost everything you read is true on some degree”.

 

“Alright, we’ll play twenty questions after I wash my face and mouth (is gross Jaime)”

 

 

“Alright-y”

 

“It’s too early to be that flippant!” she growled back and Jaime left, murmuring about grumpy, sleepy wenches.

 

*

 

"So, I've been thinking. We should start with the basics!"

 

Brienne muched on her very green salad (girl needed to eat more meat on his not - so - humble opinion) and nodded, she seemed entirely happier than before. He guessed if he wanted things to work out eventually with her, he might as well forget about sneaking up on her on early mornings. 

 

He glanced at her muscled arms.

 

Better yet, _never jump in on her at all._ She looked like she could carry him over her shoulder and toss him across the room. 

 

The thought should not, make him feel _this_ aroused, but cocks didn't have brains.

 

"Alright, start Lannister"

 

"I love it when you talk like that, so, yeah-I'm thirty five, but I'm pretty sure you already know that per Margaery _et al_ 2017, I like sweets a tad too much, I secretly enjoy watching romantic comedies and I'm a cat person-"

 

"Fuck, did you just quote her and the Starks using APA formatting?"

 

"I'll have you know that I have an economy degree and one does not graduate Lannisport U without learning how to cite. Especially if you're Tywin Lannister's heir."

 

It had been in fact the worst days of his life. He'd been trapped underneath academic material which he didn't care for at all, Cersei had ignored him and he'd missed Tyrion something fierce-he'd never forgive his father for making him study something, scratch that, forcing him to make his life what  _he_ wanted.

 

"You don't seem very happy about it," she said biting her lip. Fuck, it was distracting when she did that.

 

"I'm not. I actually hated it and still dislike that particular life decision just as others before that one." She gave him a lopsided smile that was all self-deprecation.

 

"I can empathize with that. I actually wanted to do something else than mixing drinks, it's a good job, pays the bills but you know, I had big academic dreams that my pocket couldn't afford. Well...and my time. Father started getting sick when I was preparing to chose a particular career path-and I had a duty to my family."

 

He lifted his eyes from his hands to her stormy blue eyes-it was no wonder her eyes could do this, they could be so clear and yet completely reserved. It was true, what people said, her eyes at least were the doors to her soul. And right now she looked far, away from whatever stormy things happened around them in here, in the reality. Yet they didn't look dreamy at all. There was sadness and steel behind them and he found once again drowning himself on them.

 

"So," she said suddenly focused on their conversation again, "I'm Brienne, I like horses, but I'm also a cat person no worries there, I'm afraid I like my food a bit more on the spicy side and I really hate APA quoting formattingbecause it reminds me of university, which I wish I was attending."

 

That made him laugh and with that they seemed to laugh non stop, although he knew there was some sadness there-Brienne clearly wanted to go to university.

 

"You know what? You earned a Jaime cookie," he said standing up quickly.

 

"A Jaime cookie? What's that?"

 

"Well, you see, when Tyrion was little and he got sad I'd make him cookies. It was the first thing I learned to do besides pancakes, so I was quite proud of my work, so I would solve everything by cooking. Your dog died? Cookies for you! Your partner dumped you? Cookies for you! That sort of thing. I'm hoping some day someone would bring _me_ the blasted cookies, you know? So someone shows they care. It's almost always me giving to other people-shit, I'm sorry, that got really overlly emotional." he stepped up and placed an enormous plate with chocoolate cookies and vanilla cookies.

 

"Didn't know if you were a vanilla or chocolate girl-"

 

She stared at him, no one had said something so amazing to her. No one she knew cared about giving quite so much. It made her  _want so many things, so badly_ but she refrained from voicing it. It wouldn't do to become so attached right? No need to let him know no one cared about how she liked her cookies.

 

"It's alright, I'm a Jaime cookie girl," she said, and gave him a kiss on the cheek before she could help herself.

 

 


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "After deciding she couldn’t very well spend her whole afternoon with Jaime-delicious cookies and his pleasant company wasn’t in fact the aspect of life she’d set aside if the pesky little thing called responsibility didn’t plagued her- and she could probably benefit from having a walk and calling her siblings..."
> 
> A Brienne-centric chapter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love any and all comments ❤. Tons of love go to WeirdDayDreamingFangirl which I consider at this point my unofficial cheerleader ❤ Updates will be slow but coming, I really am going through rather difficult times, but this fic has been the light of my life. There’s also many more fic to come..Also this is a fairly long chapter (for this story's standards anyway) so here, have part 1. Part 2 hopefully will be posted soon-ish, granted I survive the aftermath of [this](www.washingtonpost.com/news/democracy-post/wp/2017/07/17/the-government-didnt-want-them-to-vote-so-venezuelans-set-up-their-own-election/?utm_term=.e3da39ca22e3)

  


After deciding she couldn’t very well spend her whole afternoon with Jaime-delicious cookies and his pleasant company wasn’t in fact the aspect of life she’d set aside if the pesky little thing called _responsibility_ didn’t plagued her- and she could probably benefit from having a walk and calling her siblings (Gal wouldn’t admit he needed her to check on them, which meant in _Galladon speak_ that she most definitely needed to check on him and the girls), she showered -taking note of the sheer amount of hair products the guys kept there; it couldn’t all belong to Tysha as the _fair hair_ shampoo suggested- and dressed on her less than stellar clothing-after all she didn’t exactly felt like dressing up. She stood in the doorway, exchanging a last look with Jaime and gave him what she hoped was a self-assured smile before heading to _The Night’s Watch._ He returned an awkward smile and she wondered how she would do, how she would leave this small beacon of light behind for such a long time.

 

 

It wasn’t until she mumbled an “I’ll see you tomorrow” and Jaime placed a ghost of a kiss to her cheek –and he did so in her scarred cheek, something she would immediately reject in normal circumstances but she guessed they had long since passed the territory of normal. And instead of the slight awkwardness she felt deep in her belly whenever someone tried to hug her in a bout of effusiveness, all she experienced was _yearning. She wanted so much, it was scary._ So she decided that getting her mind onto something was the solution.

 

 

The first thing she did after leaving Jaime was to sit in a small coffee shop ran by a very fierce looking woman named Masha, and her niece named Jeyne, the girl had to be around Arya’s age and curiously she did looked a bit like Arya if a bit round faced compared with Arya’s more sharp features- she stared in awe, although her hair was a chestnut color and her eyes were a plain brown –but with an underlying strength that she recognized in herself sometimes- as the girl mumbled about Willow’s tardiness; for a moment she sat there admiring the girl’s dexterous work at giving the coffee shapes –sometimes simple ones like circles or smiley faces and some of them complicated like a particularly breathtaking rendition of a feather- as she   drank from her steamy cup of coffee (and at ten dragons the coup, she was damned if she wouldn’t sit there for a long time and enjoy it).

 

She sipped at her coffee, it had the exact flavor she liked-essosi grains and little sugar, with a touch of milk-as far as coffee went it was simple, but the place was one of the firsts she discovered when she established herself near _The Night’s Watch;_ that thought and the radio which was playing an unfortunate bleak song made her reach a strange mood; all giddiness regarding her budding relationship with Jaime abandoned her once the guilt trapped her and dragged her and—she counted to ten and then to a hundred, mentally. It’d been a long time since she’d been _like this_.

 

 _Once depressed, many times depressed,_ she had thought back then when everything had lost its appeal and every corner seemed to close in her, constrict her, keeping her from simply _being._ She’d never been an overtly cheerful child, she’d the misfortune to be inquisitive and observant ever since she could remember and it had the tendency to made her stand out—the painfully shy and melancholic girl with the ugly face and big body had never had a place alongside her peers and it had been like that for the longest time until _someone_ actually noticed her, for who she was.

 

She let herself drift in memories— _a speeding truck, sliding trough the road and pain so unbearable she fainted before she could process what was happening—waking up to her face looking only slightly scratched, the doctors said, with therapy and surgery you’ll be better again and as good as new._

_To others she had looked normal—even good._

_“It’s so good to see you okay,” said Hyle putting his hands on her shoulders-“I was so scared Brienne. I wouldn’t know what to do without you.”_

_She had turned to him and wrapped herself on his arms, and wept so freely that she had later on cursed at her trusting nature—of course it was her fault she felt so useless and she’d gone and cried and believed in Hyle’s sweet words, of course she’d failed to recognize the snake hidden between pleasantries and flirting._

 

_Her father had been angry when he’d found out she’d been so thoroughly used and mocked—and she’d been quite unforgiving with herself ever since._

 

She’d picked the tiny scrapes of her possesions and packed, she’d already lost her education and the one she loved, she couldn’t stand her truly love ones pity looks and she needed a job so she begged her father to let her finish the last months of therapy and let her be independent far away, where people wouldn't associate her with her family name. Things were good then for her family, the girls were young and Gal had a good source of income and so she had left, confident that they'd be able to move on and live without her.

 

But that hadn’t helped her, she’d been increasingly moody, had wanted to burn everything and had resorted to asking her father to please consider sending her _somewhere, anywhere_ and he’d finally relented, resigned that she was as strong headed as Gal.

 

It wasn’t logical, she thought, it didn’t made any fucking sense that her witty, resilient, _good_ father would be sick. He deserved the world, the stars, and the moon and back, he was such a force nature so big that heartbreak meant _nothing_ if he carried her in his arms; that lost dreams seemed nothing compared to the warm smile that reassured her that degree or not _she was his star._

 

She felt her throat constricting—what would she do back at home where the full power of her father’s mental illness hit her if she couldn’t deal with her own emotions back here. She cleared her throat and sat upright in her seat—she was a Tarth and Tarths were the last to fade, the earliest to rise as her father said.

 

She had a legacy to live up to.

 

She picked her phone and did the dreaded call.

 

Galladon picked up—his voice was even rougher than usual, a raspy thing that showed how sleepy he was and she was hit with the knowledge that _of course he was asleep,_ there were a good five hours of difference between Tarth and there and it was nine am. She sighed.

 

“Little Bri?”

 

“Gal! I’m so sorry, please go back to sleep. I forgot about the hour difference and just—‘ll shut up now, go and rest.”

 

“Don’t be silly, little one. I had just dozed off and father’s been unwell…so I’m exchanging turns with Janei and don’t you dare feel bad Brienne. You’d been sending us money even when you were sleeping in that ugly squared apartment with the creepy neighbors” he said in the voice he used back when she was a child –not much younger than him but _still_ lawfully his quiet, lonely little sister. She guessed not many children were compelled to _be as loud as they wanted_ but she’d always stood out even when she was a small child.

 

“I’m hardly a little one now, am I?” she joked-“I wish I had bought an earlier plane ticket, you must be so busy Gal, I’m really sorry-”

 

He huffed at her.

 

“I’ll hang up now if you keep getting worried like that, Bri. He’s sick and we’re all busy but you couldn’t possibly throw everything and come running by foot—even Brienne the Blue couldn’t do that.” He laughed heartily.

 

She blushed at his praise. It had been a long time since she’d been called _Brienne the Blue._ The last time she had swim in the school pool and detached herself from the constant mocking and jeering of the boys and girls that seemed intent in picking on her big, meaty arms and neck and her fat legs— _Brienne the cow_ they’d called her, _Brienne the Beauty_ and here she was standing. She smiled a tad smugly and sipped at her now lukewarm coffee—Cat had always scolded her for letting her coffee cool like that— _it’s not whiskey, Brienne, it’s a cup of coffee—_ and it never failed to amuse her to remember that either.

 

“ _Brienne?_ ”

 

“Sorry Gal, I’ve just gone off dream valley, you know how my mind works,” and it was true, if anyone understood Brienne-ness was Galladon, he had a PhD in Brienne-speak.

 

“Oh good. When you drift off _like that_ it means you’re creative and _when you’re creative_ at that level it can mean _many things_ ” he said mysteriously.

 

“Yeah, like there’ll be a 78% chance of meddling siblings with partially justified evidence--”

 

“I KNEW IT! You got laid, didn’t you?”

 

She blushed beet red and wished for the earth to swallow her and spit her—at Tarth, to have a dirty fight with her brother-why did men had to be so obnoxious? Only Ned and Jon seemed capable of behaving! Even Renly acted like that most of the time…

 

“I’m not discussing that with you.” She wasn’t about to explain the series of _dates? She had with Jaime. Did a movie and many visits at her workplace and his apartment counted? Probably not. Although they’d made the whole difference in their tiny, pocket-sized world._

 

“If you don’t talk I’m texting Jon or Sansa or the scary little sister! Besides, I should have first dibs in that juicy topic. I even told you when I first did it-”

 

 

“ _Not_ because I asked, Gal. You practically scarred me for life, you ass” she remembered very well the sparse and frankly scary details, she’d been nauseous and curious all at the same time but had thought that _of course_ she hadn’t had to suffer the indignity of _that. Boys were gross and girls were evil_ so she was damned if she ever experienced anything like that.

 

“Well a little bird told me you’ve been spotted with a blonde man, handsome, with the smile of a thief and questionable morale—is that truth? Or shall I hire Petyr Baelish next time?”

 

“He’s not of questionable morale! I guess the _little bird_ wasn’t informed correctly,” she bit back a little annoyed at herself. She hardly knew Jaime enough to get so defensive.

 

“He must be a remarkable man for you to defend him so passionately…Do I have to bring him here and take my duel gun outside? I’m feeling very overprotective today.”

 

_He’s Jaime, of course he’s remarkable but he couldn’t be explained by words. Gods, she sounded so silly._

 

“He is. But Gal, honestly all I can do now is focus on packing up and saying goodbye because honestly, father needs me, _us_ and so do the girls. Don’t you dare say so otherwise, if father is sick what will be of Alys and Ari? They’re far too young and--” what if father gets worse? Was what she wanted to say but kept it quiet. Her insights were sometimes too cold for others, she was _far_ from being insensitive but her practicality was sometimes extreme, even in fear and pain like now, she loved her father with all her heart but _the possibility was there._ Perhaps she was cold compared with others but it was the way she worked; fragmenting pieces of work made her feel better.

 

 

“I can practically hear that big brain of yours working, sis. I love how creative you are, it always helps to have someone like that by my side, and I have always admired you for it but when you go like that you rarely let yourself breathe. Just give yourself a break, little one. We’ll find a way, won’t we? And if anything happens I’ll adopt them, you know that I wouldn’t ask you to shoulder all the burden-”

 

“We’re not discussing this over the phone, Gal.”

 

“You’re right, I’ll just go to sleep now and we’ll discuss everything later. And for seven sakes, go and have fun! Dance, flirt, _do_ that man in many creative ways…you’re a Tarth, is on your blood-”

 

She almost spit her coffee. _Seven hells, why was he so nosy?_

 

“I’ll pretend you didn’t advise something like that. Let’s just talk when you’re not sleep deprived, you keep saying the weirdest things whenever you answer the phone sleepy. It’s scary.”

 

“Love you, little Bri.”

 

“Love you too, Gal.”

 

 

\--

 

 

At work _she_ did her best to ignore everyone’s knowing looks. The problem was her very nosy workmates weren’t quite so good at ignoring her. Sansa had given her a quick peck on the cheek and Arya merely greeted her with a “yo, Tarth!” at which she promptly rolled her eyes and patted her in the head. The whole thing made them look like a very blonde Hagrid patting a very skinny and girly Harry on the back. And wasn’t that an odd thought?

 

 _Seven hells,_ they were looking at her as if she had gotten laid! and she had only napped with Jaime in a very wholesome way. They had reached levels of wholesomeness envied only by Disney. Jon, bless his neutral demeanor quirked an eyebrow at a leering Arya and she had the decency to blush. Good. It wasn’t any of their business whatever Jaime may or may not do with her.

 

She stuck her tongue out at Arya and Jon gave that cute, shy slip of a smile that had half of the northern ladies and gentlemen gazing at him adoringly before signaling for them to speak.

 

“Brienne, please sit. Did you had any breakfast?” he was the picture of good manners as always. She shrugged, feeling that it wasn’t a very nice thing to do to answer in another manner, it wasn’t Jon’s responsibility to feed her after all.

 

“No shrugging with me, Brienne. Wait here, I’ll bring some of Sansa’s pastries, she’s been so cheerful ever since she took cooking. I think it helps her cope and not to sound like a proud hen, but she’s _amazing._ According Ygritte her lemoncakes are making me chubby,” he deadpanned staring at her intently.

 

 _He has caring instincts. She really did hoped Ygritte appreciated it._ She was a nice woman, very strong minded and focused on her work just like Jon, but her spirit was pure fire and all she wished as a friend was to see Jon happy.

 

 

“Have I ever told you how much you sound like Ned? It’s uncanny.”

 

“Yes, a few times when you were this quiet brooding woman that apparently decided quiet, brooding men were trustworthy…You have no idea how much that improved Cat’s glares,” he added, a dry laugh escaping his lips.

 

She laughed back, although hers was a bit awkward. She’d never known what she could make of Cat’s strange behavior toward Jon. Whatever she disliked about him Brienne didn’t understand. _He was kind, honest and serious._ Cat’s grudge couldn’t possibly be aimed at him, right? But then again she hadn’t liked Jaime either, had described him initially as an irresponsible, dangerous man, prone to attack everyone with his sharp tongue; entitled to have everyone bowing at his feet. _When had he changed? Was she seeing visions conjured by her infatuated brain?_

 

 

“But my likeness to my uncle isn’t what brought you here, is it?”

 

He was, as always, straight to the point.

 

“I wanted to let you know I can’t keep working here. You’ve been more than gracious by keeping up with Theon’s work and I _really appreciate it…_ it’s just my time to take on family duty. I’m sure you know how it is.”

 

He gave her a thoughtful nod and she felt herself sag in relief. They interacted as a family but she still saw him as her boss, deep down inside.

 

_Look at it septa, you’d be so fucking proud of big Brienne._

 

“Very well…I have the suspicion you’ll rather deal on your own, regardless of our opinion so you’re lucky I’m not actually a Stark. I’ll let Theon know and you’ll be going with a compensation and Brienne, know we’re more than mere employers. Ned also says to say hi to The Evenstar and the best of his wishes, Cat too,” he added lifting an eyebrow.

 

 _That_ was weird, but it was beyond her worries at the moment.

 

“Thank you, Jon,” she said and gave him a firm handshake.

 

“You’re more than welcome, Brienne. Please call if you need anything, Sansa will go insane if she isn’t updated on her Tarth news. Arya too, they’d been admiring you for so long, you’re like their Azor Ahai.”

 

“I guess that means I’ll have to let them shower me in hugs and kisses, right?”

 

He grimaced, perhaps in kinship with her distaste for long goodbyes.

 

“Right. You know how it is with the girls. You know, let’s reunite here on Friday, make a good amount of hamburgers, enough vegetables sandwiched in between with cheese should be enough to let us get pass the sappiness fest that’ll be Sansa, Margaery and Jeyne crying over your departure. Even Arya’ll like a proper girl for once of that I’m sure.”

 

So, with that she agreed to embarrassing social gatherings, all for the sake of her friends.

 

She gave another bite at her lemoncake.

 

“Sansa can really cook. That was like heaven in my mouth.” She said gesturing at the cakes. Jon laughed.

 

“I know, she’s found her calling, Hot Pies should probably start refreshing their image if they don’t want Sans to leave them bankrupt.”

 

She laughed. It was, she supposed, the beginning of many things. She was _glad._ Sansa had grown so much under her watch. And so had Arya and the others, it’d break her heart to part from these people for whatever time it was.

 

When she received the pair of bear hugs from Arya and Sansa she smiled deeply and patted the awkwardly in their backs –they had really grown, she noticed- and when her eyes turned watery she accepted it with a smile.

 

“I’ll come later on this week and on Friday we’ll eat together, how does that sounds?” she knew she sounded like an elder when they were in fact closer in age than her and Jaime, but she couldn’t in her mind suppress the both of them after Bran’s accident, how Sansa’d gone pale and sickly and Arya was prone to mood swings and fighting at school. It was so many years ago, but she remembers thinking how she hoped Alys and Ari grow up to be strong young ladies and how she’d secretly shed a couple of tears and Galladon’s insistence that she was _doing more than enough_ by taking a good job and how the girls ate and played with things _because_ of their hard work. So she’d become friends with the girls but had deeply inside her regarded them as her charges. It was her fatal flaw; once she decided she was infatuated with someone she felt responsible of their wellbeing.

 

Sansa smiled widely and Arya rolled her eyes at her display of emotions.

 

“Gods Brienne, stop, if _you_ get emotional I’ll get emotional _too_. Next thing we know I’ll be Sans 2.0 and start crying at weddings. Can’t ruin my reputation like that.”

 

“Then you should stop mooning over certain sullen looking boys.” She said all mock-seriousness and overconfident demeanor.

 

Arya groaned and she gave her a shit-eating grin. She’d learned this particular trick back at home by arguing with Gal-he’d rat her out, she’d talk about his hidden condoms to septa Roelle (father had been rather on board with equality and had decided he’d try out the same education style for both children) so _she knew_ Arya would react like that.

 

It was _a classical_ from the Obnoxious Sibling variety. Hells, she could probably write her own comprehensive manual on child rearing and sibling wars for beginners.

 

Her self-satisfied smile only grew and Sansa, the traitorous girl that she was joined in, with a small smile of her own.

 

Payback was a bitch.

 

“She’s all mushy inside, like cereal, once she gets in contact with Gendry she gets incredibly sensitive and shy. I think he might have tamed this one,” said Sansa lifting her pretty face and battling her eyelashes at her sister.

 

Arya blushed and grumbled about stupid Bulls and betrayal between siblings being unholy and punishable with jail and Jon and Sansa shrugged at the same time, which had the weird effect of making them look like twins. As Jon and Arya started their weird twin-like non-verbal communication (she’d been scared the hell out the first time she saw them do it) she let Sansa take her aside.

 

She smiled fondly at them and patted Sansa hair.

 

“Sans, really, I’ll be okay. I’ll just let you know when I’m there,” she said smiling lopsidedly at her.

 

“You better take care of yourself, or I’ll unleash the terror that is Arya on the southerners, especially blonde haired ones, it doesn’t matter how much scorching hot sex you have with them,” she whispered wiggling her eyebrows.

 

“SANSA! Not you too. Do you guys think that’s the only thing I see on him?” she replied, outraged at the implication. Jaime was so much more than his stupidly handsome features and fit body, besides _pretty_ was hardly her prototype, she’d much rather pick a regular guy, it just so happened that Jaime was the rare, extremely nice _and_ handsome type.

 

Sansa sighed and put her hands on her hips. It was adorable, but she wouldn’t tell her. “Let me explain, Brienne,” she signaled for the back alley (what was it with today and confidences? She much rather have played twenty questions with Jaime and his wonderful cookies).

 

“You know we mistrust the Lannisters and Baratheons, you see, it was difficult for us to pick up after dad left business. You know, because of your own experience with Renly that the Lannisters aren’t fair at their game, and I’m far from being an expert but Lannisters did had a rather unfortunate meltdown regarding Joffrey and his drug and abuse scandals-” she breathed a bit and regained her regal posture once again “at that time I was under their clutches, mom was going insane and everything seemed to just spiral out of control for us and well, you know how things went for me; even Arya who’s so strong kept moving and _doing stuff_ and I felt terrible for everything, I mean _my little brother_ had lost mobility of his legs and we didn’t knew if it was for a full extent and I couldn’t even will myself to eat a piece of bread in front of others…it was chaotic and if Robb and Jon hadn’t shouldered the weight of it for a while, I think we’d be dead. All of us. I’m not exaggerating, let me tell you therapy wasn’t and isn´t an easy affair…The point being I recognize that same stubborn determination in you and I just want you to know, _we’re here for you_ even mom. Therapy has made her less…reactive to stuff, she’s even becoming more accepting of Jon. Not that he had any fault to begin with,” she said scrunching her nose indignantly. She had, with time come to accept theirs wasn’t a perfect family life and she’d told Brienne as much.

 

“And…I know you’re grown up and _strong…_ like, I admire many people but Jon, dad and you, the three of you are different material. The rest of us are made of something else. And it worries me you’ll let everything set on your shoulders and let it push you until you get sick or sad and it becomes too much…and you won’t say a thing. And Jaime, we don’t know him and he was _close_ to his stepsister Brienne…fuck there were even rumors of them...you know,” she gestured vaguely but it was enough for Brienne. She guessed his whole secretive demeanor and general disregard to discuss his love life made more sense now. “But it isn’t the _closeness_ that worries me but the type of person he may be. It makes me worry, and the rest of us. Although Arya, has quite nice instincts regarding men (mine are crap at their best) and she thinks he looks girly but _nice_.”

 

Brienne keeps herself silent. _What can she do?_ She’s good at nodding in silence and getting whatever work needed done. It was why Renly liked her as his personal assistant (The Seven bless his soul, wherever it may be) and why she worked well with Jaime, the man was an eternal source of conversation topics she admired secretly.

 

Finally, it occurs to her that this conversation is more related to Sansa and the Starks peace of mind-they care for her and they’ve less than stellar experiences with the Lannisters (she knows Sansa’s filtering her information because she was kind like that). Cat had cleared her on the fraud committed by Cersei Baratheon before she even set foot at the bar; when they’d explained she was more than welcome as any son or daughter of Selwyn Tarth was at their home and Ned had been sick at the time, Cat had cursed Tywin and his progeny and she had offered her a hug, inexplicably moved by the woman as she had felt whenever Renly explained his family’s injustices.

 

And regardless of her alliances here she was still defending Jaime and expecting the best from him, because in truth she didn’t knew him, the Starks, Margaery Tyrell and everyone that had met him before her had mileages of years to gather information and she had only a few weeks to form a final opinion of him. It was however safe to say that her decision remained.

 

She had given Jaime her complete trust, it didn’t usually happened and the realization made her want to let herself fall on a couch and it was a lot to take in—she breathed.

 

What did her old therapist said? It wasn’t healthy to focus on the things she couldn’t help, the present was _now_ and she could definitely trust her instincts at this point.

 

She blinked and Sansa put a hand on her cheek—the untouched one, she guessed Sansa didn’t wanted to overstep her confidence but the gesture reminded her of Jaime unabashedly grabbing her hurt cheek.

 

Yes, she could trust him too.

 

“Bri?”

 

“I’m okay, just got overwhelmed. It happens sometimes, it’s a leftover from the accident.” She said in the calm, reassuring voice she used back then when dad or Galladon found her crying in her sleep. She took deep, reassuring breathes. She’d never liked indulging in self-pity and she wasn’t about to start now because she had _feelings_.

 

_Having a freak out because of feelings, that would be strange to explain at therapy compared with the night terrors._

 

“I’ll be okay, Sans. I always manage to survive and pick myself from whatever craziness happens to me. I also think we should trust Arya’s instincts, don’t you think?” she nodded to herself, lost in thought and Sansa took it as the answer that it was.”

 

Sansa put a serious expression and lifted an eyebrow imperiously. “Alright, just drag his fit Daddy ass this Friday.” She deadpanned, enjoying the horrified look on Brienne’s face.

 

Somewhere inside the bar _someone_ that sounded suspiciously like Arya snorted and she resisted the urge to get inside and flip her off. It was like this people weren’t atrociously adept at dating half of Westeros themselves—she had lost count of the sheer amount of people that Theon alone had dated before settling on Robb—in whatever it was they had anyway.

 

“You _did not_ just called him like that! What’s wrong with this generation and the use of terms like Daddy or Mommy in vaguely sexual scenarios?”

 

“Oh, _please, don’t be a prude._ You’re having what I hope is scorching, highly acrobatic intercourse with a fine, _aged_ specimen and you expect me to be formal about it?”

 

“I think that’s your inner Asha or Margaery talking right now. I really do hope so anyway. Because the _sweet, innocent_ Sanny I know wouldn’t act like that” She said eyes wide open in mock horror. In the time she’d known Sansa she had changed from the regal looking, gullible girl that had looked at her less than plain features and pitied her so deeply, it had shown in her face every time she talked to Brienne to this beautiful, steely young woman that’d come to her and ask her about life, work and even dating, with admiration—she didn’t knew it, but it had also helped _her,_ Brienne, to have a friend like her, and she sometimes thought Sansa and her had more in common with each other than people would believe; they both came initially from privilege and both had come to learn things didn’t last forever, had come to appreciate food, clothing and above all the peace of mind that being independent gave, now that Sansa had started to construct a path of her own.

 

 

Sansa grinned at her wickedly, pretty lips twisted in a rather scary way; she’d to ask later on where she had learned to smile like that it—it would benefit her to do so more often. “It’s actually my inner Osha-”

 

“ _Osha?”_

 

 

“Long story short: Bran’s caretaker was a bit _rough around the edges,_ she’d had minor criminal activities on her record but Robb and dad employed her when she showed her credentials and it turned out it made Bran crack a smile more often, especially over our then miserable dinner.” The Starks had really had it difficult for the longest time and Bran—Sansa’s little brother—had the misfortune to have an accident just when things had started to look up. 

 

“So she was a criminal Nanny McPhee?”

 

“Something like that, when Bran finished his physio and stayed at home working for us, she’s fiercely loyal like all the people Beyond-The-Wall are. She actually nursed me a bit too back when I wouldn’t eat anything solid.”

 

“You know Sansa, good things do sometimes happen to good people and I just have the sense that I met Jaime for a reason, you know?”

 

A look of understanding passed between the two of them.

 

“And if I was you, I’ll pass on better information next time…Gal sort of gave you away, he’s terrible at keeping secrets,” she said lifting both of her eyebrows in the threatening gesture Alys loved to mimic when she was a toddler.

 

Sansa bit her lip, mortified.

 

“What can I say? He’s charming and he seemed worried about you. I promised I said nothing else.” She needn’t say what else _she didn’t spoke of,_ she knew that stood for _I didn’t told your big brother about your private life and sexual escapades or that you could only afford noodles the first two months._

 

At that point they knew each other enough to have a code. So she patted Sansa in the head.

 

They made eye contact—darker blue eyes on paler ones—and Brienne felt a surge of pride and love for the woman—a look that she quickly transformed into a steelier one. “Good to know, but next time tell him to call me directly and ask.” Sansa nodded, looking up at her with a grin and she felt her mouth twisting up in a smile of her own volition. She knew she could hardly pull off the stern look with her anymore. In fact, all things considered it seemed she was losing her touch as of lately. She tried really hard not to think _why_ or rather because of whom she’d become so soft again.

 

“I’ll see you later, Sanny.”

 

“See you later, Bri!”

\--

 

The last step of that day was to go to her own apartment. He apartment was decidedly less formidable in matters of space but compared with the _entropic_ mess that was Jaime and Tyrion’s home Brienne’s apartment was the Targaryen palace—the curtains where a pale blue color, the walls white (Margaery had tried to convince her once to change to something more uplifting but she rather liked the monochrome overtones better than whatever chic thing other people favored). She glanced at the dusty surface on the kitchen counter and the floor and resigned, picked her vacuum and proceeded to fight the evils of dust bunnies and opaque glasses with all the energy she could muster up. Once she’d finished cleaning up every tile and every surface in it (it was a rather small apartment after all) she indulged into a bit of takeout and paid the delivery boy, a stuttering young man named Podrick, relishing in the way the poor guy didn’t turn into a lobster for once when she handed the tip, he mumbled a thanks and she nodded to him with a grin on her lips.

 

She decided she would later on email the pizza place and praise the boy, of course she didn’t know if his bosses were jerks or nice people but it couldn’t help her to _try._ She snorted-- _whatever it was going on with her today?_ She had gone from dreading to go back home, to hopeful of whatever she had with Jaime somehow withstanding the space and time, enduring perhaps as a friendship of sorts and now she was getting charitable. It wasn’t a bad thing, it was in her very nature to be this way, so it wasn’t that what worried her but the sheer amount of changes her mind had experienced the whole day.

 

She smelled the pizza lustfully, she was hungry and ready to eat it all in one go; it was covered with cheese, onion, corn, several other vegetables and the unusual (for her anyway) added flavor of pepperoni and it had the soft texture she enjoyed so much. No one seemed to enjoy soft pizza like her, Sansa said it was disgusting how crude it looked and she had stuck her tongue out at her the last time they ate it at her place. _That_ had been an interesting night, what with Pod almost fainting after mumbling something like _wouldyoucallme_ as he handed her a small paper note with his name and number. Brienne had glanced from one to the other and had accepted the poor boy’s number as Sansa looked rather shell shocked at the sudden intrusion. After the whole debacle, Brienne had actually told him he seemed a nice guy and that she could order something else next time if she didn’t felt like risking the chance to see him and Sansa had gave her a small smile and said that wouldn’t be a problem, she’d only been too shocked to answer anything. She guessed she’d to ask Sansa next time if she did called the boy.

 

Speaking of which, she really did felt like calling Jaime right now, what with their latest exchange of cookies, they’d been so tasty and he’d been so damn sweet that she had considered jumping him right there and then but her sleepiness and self-preservation instincts had kicked off pretty quick as she had appraised his handsome smile, all awkward at the sight of her in such an intimate place. Had she been more courageous, more reckless she’d finally found out what he was like… _he_ would be as tasty as the pizza. Of that she was sure.

 

_Fucks sake, she had almost forgotten her own rules when it came to men: hadn’t she be as sleepy as she was, she had acted on the desire she felt coursing through her body as she woke up on his bed._

 

Her phone beeped in the boring tone she had set up for it months ago… _Speaking of calling._

 

**_Jaime Lannister calling_ **

 

_“Hello?”_

 

“Jaime! I was just thinking of calling you, actually”.

 

There was a pause, as she heard Jaime shuffle around the room.

 

_“Sorry…couldn’t hear you very well…I was thinking that here’s a little bit cramped and I’d rather like going there…If you don’t mind of course”._

“Oh. Well…” she studied the small place, wondering if he would mind at all. On a hand it seemed Lannisters were used to lavishness and glamour according with what she’d heard but then again Tyrion and Jaime hadn’t seemed to mind much the whole living in a cramped space and Tysha seemed a regular woman in terms of such things—her guess was that the freedom of a small apartment away from the big Lannister estate was a blessing to them and they honestly didn’t seemed to mind about wealth that much.

 

Except for Jaime’s hair products and the amount of electric appliances distributed around the apartment... That was definitely high maintenance at its finest.

 

 _“I can actually hear you over thinking, Brienne.”_ He sounded extraordinarily annoyed.

 

“Alright. You can come over and maybe bring some more cookies? _Please?_ ” she added on her best rendition of a sexy voice. It couldn’t hurt to try, right?

 

_“Only if you speak every sentence like that…I’d even go wearing nothing if you asked me like that.”_

 

Well fuck, if he kept his little game up, she _may_ end up doing something reckless. The whole conversation with Sansa kept replaying on her mind, 

 

“If you wish to do so, I won’t oppose” she said in the same grave tones. The idea of a very naked Jaime, caused thoughts, _heated_ and highly creative thoughts that wouldn’t leave her head.

 

_“You’re having what I hope is scorching, highly acrobatic intercourse with a fine, aged specimen”_

 

Fuck no, but she rather did hoped she could have it.

 

_“Brienne?”_

 

“Jaime…”

 

 _“Would you hurry up and send me your address?_ ” he asked slowly, softly even. Well, it wasn’t her fault really if he was being such a horrible tease, right? She didn’t care anymore if she was being obvious, _she wanted him,_ there was no need to feel embarrassed anyway, when it was out there plain to see for the whole world. She liked Jaime, she was possibly in her way to fall for him and there wasn’t much she could do about it.

 

\---

 

Jaime was a mess. He looked around gathering a small bag (what? _He did cared for his image after all)_ and Tyrion sat on the couch judging him with his sharp mismatched eyes.

 

He sipped at his orange juice (Tysha was a blessing on their lives) and peeked at him through sleepy eyelashes. “Did you plan to move out and forgot to tell me?”

 

“Very funny, actually the problem here is _not_ the bag” he said slowly. It was actually a habit of his to talk slow when he was worried.

 

Tyrion chuckled at his distress. “Well, you did always reflected on your problems like this—I remember when that girl Melara gave you that kiss you were freaking out and right after that _thing_ with Arthur Dayne, whatever that was…”

 

He rolled his eyes but felt his cheeks heat up anyway. Tyrion had the ability to make him act like _he was_ the younger brother.

 

“Shut up. I don’t remember you acting so proud when you asked Tysha out for the first time.”

 

Tyrion smiled crookedly at him “yes, I was terrified. Followed her around more times than you did with your Brienne.”

 

“She’s not mine, little bro.”

 

It was Tyrion’s time to roll his eyes. When he did that, it made Jaime remember that he was as vulnerable as him...that the haughty men people saw was but the great façade he’d made of himself. Underneath it all he was just Tyrion, his mischievous and know-it-all of a sibling.

 

“Well, I don’t see why not. All I see is you making puppy eyes at her and then packing to go and stay with her…I mean, this is _wonderful news,_ before you ended the rather unfortunate you had with our sweet stepsister—don’t look at me like that, you were horrible to each other, you were miserable and she was _ecstatic_ at having you as her slave until the end of the days. She’s even contacted me at your refusal to reach back at her (like hell, I’ll tell her you changed your number)—but I’m worried you’re not considering every option.”

 

He breathed in—he knew what Tyrion meant. For all he knew Brienne could be considering him a very nice fling and he’d be left adrift again.

 

“I…Gods, Tyrion you think I don’t know?”

 

Tyrion’s eyes softened.

 

“Would you please consider not letting yourself go so easily? She seems like a decent person, but you could be _less intense?_ You did seemed prone to rushing things.”

 

At that they both laughed. “Well, it’s the Lannister thing to do, isn’t it?” In truth their father had been soft and sometimes even _weak_ when it came to women and love. People even said he was so cold because he never moved on from their mother’s death…

 

“It damn well is”. Tyrion step up and refilled his glass, he grabbed one of Tysha’s cookies and handed it to Jaime. “I like your cookies better, but don’t tell Tysh, she could feed me disgusting food for the rest of our lives and I wouldn’t give a shit. I’m lucky enough to have her.”

 

Jaime shook his head as he looked at Tyrion.

 

“ _No. You’re both lucky to have each other._ ”

 

Tyrion blinked back at him slowly, eyes warm as he smiled softly.

 

“You’re right, big bro.”

 

 

 

\---

 

He picked the green shirt Tyrion always complained about merely to spite him out and bought a bottle of wine in the way, because he did never let go of his childhood education and _“a Lannister shall always brought something to dinner, especially if he was courting a lady”._

He did hoped Dornish Red made it.

 

_Brienne: Are you too far away to pick chocolate cake?_

_I’ll pay for my half when you get here._

 

He smiled stupidly at his phone. He did felt like a teenager anytime he talked to Brienne. She was an absolutely wonderful woman, even when it came to the tiniest things she was nothing but fair. Gods, he wanted to kiss her so much.

_Jaime: is it too preposterous to hope you’ll pay with kisses?_

_Only if you’re amenable_

 

He guessed he couldn’t help but throw caution at the wind when it came to gorgeous wenches.

 

_Brienne: I think I’ve already established I’m amenable with that ;)_

 

Gods, she knew the effect she had on him.

 

He was beyond turned on.

           

_Jaime: be there in ten._

 


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He chuckled at her; she had no idea the kind of wonders her uttering his name like that did to him. On his heart. On his damned body that seemed to be on fire. “Did you just decide to change to my last name, now? Are we sworn enemies now or what?”
> 
>  
> 
> She blinked owlishly at him, good, I can’t be the only one affected here, can I? And muttered “it does seems we’re drunk with what we’re discussing…and if this was medieval Westeros I’ll be kicking your ass, sworn enemy or not.”
> 
>  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! 
> 
> The first song they listen to is Dancing on my own by Callum Scott, and the other one is Say you won’t let go by James Arthur. As you may notice chapters are getting bigger and we’re getting closer to the end. Do consider dropping by to comment what you thought about it in the comments ♥

By the time he reached the address Brienne gave him, he had calmed himself enough by driving carefully around the streets and picking the chocolate cake at a tiny shop with the slogan _Hot Pies and Something Else_ and some essosi chicken and rice which Tyrion had got him addicted to years ago when he went to university abroad and he thought Brienne would appreciate.

 

He wanted to show her everything he liked and know everything she liked, he wanted to reach for the stars, to risk _things_ because Brienne Tarth was _worth it._ And he did always had the habit to make things better with food—whenever he felt unease back at Casterly, he would cook himself some pie, with Tyrion always behind him, looking for some food, grabbing at his clothes with all the endearing obstinate will of a child that would not rest until food were to be placed on his table—he would in fact seat by Tyrion’s side and put some tv on, let the pancakes, cookies or whatever he had cooked as a snack would distract his brother from their father’s consistent lack of care for them, especially Tyrion who was so small and couldn’t understand _why_ he was so detached from them. The memory was a bittersweet one but he let it wash out of him, he now knew although their childhood was far from perfect he was at the very least taken care of and fed because of their privileged –at least in terms of food and material stuff-- upbringing.  He fixed his hair once again (it was getting quite long but he liked the way it curled around his shoulders) and checked if his clothes were in order, it was an old habit of his product of all the time he spent working at the company and the education he had when he was young--  although he realized, he did look different as having to represent the Lannisters always meant nothing but designer suits when meeting business partners as _The Heir of Tywin Lannister_ and jeans (even designer ones) with his favorite plaid shirt—which is green because he’d be insane if he doesn’t thinks of showing off his eyes—needless to say, it would hardly be his choice of outfit some months ago.

 

Brienne received him with an anxious smile and a modest combination of a white top with a plaid shirt of her own (only hers is blue) and jeans—not her usual black on black or deep blue combination but it was endearing nevertheless. He bowed at her and she giggled.

 

“Did you just bowed at me?” she asked biting her plump, _desirable_ lips and he found himself licking his own.

 

He stood and smiled at her widely.  “I did—did you know Lannisters are taught to act like this? War of the Five Kings etiquette and all.”

 

“I’m not surprised at all…and besides, I was taught etiquette too, you silly,” she said sticking her tongue out at him.

 

She let him in and gave him a tour around the kitchen— honestly it was tiny because it was a rather small space and it must have shown on his face because she laughed at him.

 

“Spit it. You look… constipated.” She giggled again—he glanced around, no signs of Brienne drinking anything anyway. Not that she was any lightweight, she could drink him under the table just fine, and he’d be singing praises to her wonderful person—possibly confessing how badly he wanted to run his fingers through her beautiful hair and kiss her, but he was a gentleman and a Lannister and he wouldn’t even give her a peck if she was tipsy.

 

“Constipated?”

 

“Well, yes, you have that look on your face…it looks like you’re holding back what you’re thinking.”

 

He laughed. He was positive it looked like he was holding back because _he wanted her, it hardly had anything to do with her apartment._

 

“Oh nothing at all…”

 

She gave him a doubtful look.

 

“Well okay, _it’s rather cramped in here._ Are you happy? I have inflicted my douche side on you.” He leaned on her space as much as he could but the intimidating look could hardly work on someone _taller and stronger_ than him, could it? “Could it be that you…are tipsy, Brienne?”

 

It seemed however, that Brienne was working over _the things she had said on the phone_ because she unexpectedly was blushing as she stepped back from him, attempting to foil his plan to become more acquainted with her space.

 

She bit her lip and --in a moment of spontaneity-- he ruffled her hair softly and kissed her cheek feeling the texture of her scarred cheek ever so slightly—it was a mere touch but as he was close enough to smell the citric notes coming of her (was it her perfume or her shampoo?) he realized he was at risk of overstepping the line they had so far established for the other. She closed her eyes slightly seemingly less startled with his presence and enveloped him in a hug; she replied “you wish, Lannister”.

 

He chuckled at her; she had _no idea_ the kind of wonders her uttering his name like that did to him. On his heart. _On his damned body that seemed to be on fire._ “Did you just decide to change to my last name, now? Are we sworn enemies now or what?”

 

She blinked owlishly at him, _good, I can’t be the only one affected here, can I?_ And muttered “it does seems we’re drunk with what we’re discussing…and if this was medieval Westeros I’ll be kicking your ass, sworn enemy or not.”

 

He caressed her hair—it felt too good to do so more freely, to be closer to her every time. It was eerie how her presence calmed him, that soothing beacon of light that seemed to found him on the time of darkness.

 

“Well,” he said and paused because he hardly knew what the etiquette was when one cared about someone that actually cared too but had no way to keep on with you on a relationship because of other commitments. Especially ones he didn’t knew much about. “Where should we start?” he continued and worried he was about to fuck it all up, considering he didn’t wanted Brienne to think he had nothing but good intentions with her. The greatest in fact, he guessed if it was up to the stupid tendency he had to _act first, think later_ they’d have done little talking by now and she’d possibly think he saw her as a fling. And then he found himself thinking _well, that might be a good point to start._ Not the fling part anyway

 

“Not it’s me who can feel you overthinking. What happened Lannister, are you all talk? I did promised I had a reward for food, didn’t I?” she said, arms circling around his back. She had her head placed on top of his…it was the first time a woman had been taller than him so it didn’t surprised him such tender gesture was hers to claim first too. “You’re not backing off me, are you?” she added her voice trembling slightly.

 

“Of course not. I’m not quitting on anything, Brienne.” He looked at her, they were almost of the same high, although she was taller than him—her eyes, always calm and gorgeous shone in the bright light of the room and he stared unabashedly at her, wide hips covered by dark blue jeans, flat torso and small breasts hidden beneath her very own version of a plaid shirt. Only hers was blue instead of green.

 

 

He quirked an eyebrow at her and she snorted. “It seems we’re at the _dressing with matching outfits_ stage already.”

 

“It wouldn’t surprise me,” replied Brienne wistfully. “It seems we’re doing everything backwards, don’t you think?”

 

He chuckled, it did seemed to describe their overall situation. “We might as well hop into the _very nice part_ anyway,” he replied unthinkingly and Brienne’s eyes opened wide as she replied “ _not so fast._ I’m not that cheap, Jaime.” She punched his arm jokingly. “At least treat me to the wonderful things coming from those bags. And we’re talking too,” she added softly.

 

“Yes, about that…I might have exaggerated with the food. Sorry, Tyrion always says I have to remember food isn’t love but, as I always tell him…Having a full tummy _does help_ most of the time. He’s more into wine than food anyway, I don’t think he’d get it.” He stopped talking abruptly. He had surely overstepped his line mentioning all his baggage and family issues, right?

 

Brienne nodded in understanding, and she didn’t seemed horrified! He guessed she had been filled in Lannister 101, he was suddenly dying to know exactly what she had been told.

 

“Jaime! I’m still waiting for you…and I’m still very hungry for those sweets.” She said grabbing him by the shoulders and all but making him sit on a kitchen chair.

 

“Gods Brienne, don’t attack me like that. What about we eat _and talk?_ Is that amenable for you?”

 

“Completely doable. Let me just--” she gestured to the radio and stepped up to put some cd before sitting next to him again. It was some very soft music, he didn’t knew the lyrics but found he rather enjoyed the soft ballad, it was a change from what was playing on the radio during the past years. He actually liked it.

 

_(I’m on a corner watching you over…)_

 

Well. It was a fairly sappy song and he’d be never _ever_ discussing the fact he liked it with Tyrion. Maybe Tysha because she was nice and understood feelings way better than any of them Lannister men could but _for fucks sake, he was moved by it._

_(But I’m over here why can’t you see me)_

 

“Ready. Now, where should we start?” Brienne asked, eyes focusing on the task of picking among the many plastic containers Jaime brought over.

_…_

_(I keep dancing on my own)_

 

 

 

“The chicken, it’s actually a bit more than spicy, I’ve been told I like it way too spicy actually and I didn’t know if you even liked spicy food anyway,” he rambled on.

 

Brienne replied: “As a matter of fact I do. It drives Gal insane that I eat my food spicy because whenever I cooked chicken and he tried to steal it from the kitchen he’d need to down a glass of water. He’s such a baby, really. I guess that’s why I always look like I’m strong and prepared for all situations. Because my big brother is in fact a baby,” she said rolling her eyes. “I’m more like Dad, or at least the way he was before…” she added, looking at her hands thoughtfully.

 

He nodded and took one of her hands.

 

“Keep going. I thought the idea was to talk? About stuff and family? You don’t always have to be so put together Brienne. I can listen to you too.”

 

 _This is important to me,_ he tried to convey it by his actions. Would she understand what that entitled? He rather hoped so.

 

She stared at him and then blinked slowly.

 

“Alright. Well, I guess I have failed to mention Alysane and Arianne…my baby sisters. They’re quite young, only eight years old, my father had them with his second wife. Gal and I helped taking care of them for a while until I moved here some two years ago and settled with the help of the Starks,” he made a small sound of discomfort and she frowned at him, but her eyes remained sincere and calm.

 

“Are they as cute as you?” he added, thinking of tiny Briennes running around the place, commanding people or giving that strange sense of calmness he always got when he was around Brienne or maybe sitting quietly by an oak tree, judging people with their unwavering angelic blue eyes.

 

“Those two terrors? No they’re more like their mother, sweet faced and their hair is darker too, chestnut colored and thick unlike my thin locks--” she replied fondly. She missed carrying them around and giving them sweets when father and Ros weren’t looking, she even missed their annoyingly observant comments at her love life—they had particularly liked Renly (but found him a bit dull), detested Hyle  (a five year old Arianne had dropped her juice box on him pretending it was a mistake) and she wondered what they’d think of Jaime.

 

“You’ve got wonderful hair, Brienne.” He replied earnestly.

 

 

_Alysanne would definitely like him and Arianne not so much if he kept looking at her sister so intensely._

 

She seemed flustered by his comment, as she turned red from the tip of her hair to her neck and he would now bet his right hand if she wasn’t blushing underneath the plaid shirt too; but shook her head and continued on. “Well, yes, _thank you_. And the Starks, Jaime, are like family and as you’ve seen they’re rather welcoming of people unlike _some other people._ ”

 

“What do you mean by that?” he blurted out worried. His family was big—a result of marrying and producing heirs steadily even during the twenty first century as it they were still monarchy—but he could bet his left hand over the fact that _by other people_ she meant Cersei or his father. They were _that charming._

 

“Well, years ago Galladon and father were approached by this woman named _Cersei Lannister_ then, assuring them they wanted to do business with us, to make the island a great paradise for tourists but after sometime working she took off with some of the money, nowhere to be seen,” she said and he felt like he wanted to die of shame. _Of course Cersei had to do with this._

 

“Brienne, I’m very sorry…I had no idea.”

 

She cut him off. She didn’t aim to make him feel bad. She just felt like she needed to clear the air and _she was curious a_ nd suspected his relationship with his stepsister when farther than people thought.

 

“ _I know_. We investigated her and your father actually returned the money a few days later…With a formal apology from your estate and nothing was made of it afterwards…” she explained, in a clear attempt to make him feel better. It’d been so long since it had happened that she didn’t actually care anymore and she had gotten the money back so things weren’t a disaster because of Cersei.

 

He put his hands on his face and covered his eyes anyway, the whole thing was a testament to how much Cersei had enjoyed dragging their name through the mud. He let out a frustrated groan and was surprised by Brienne’s gentle hand on his shoulder.

 

 

“It seems like whatever I do, my family name has already earned a name good enough or worse _bad_ enough and by the time I meet people _they’ve already made their mind._ You have no idea…well, scratch that, your last name is the name of an island. So, there’s a chance you do know but at least your likened to the reputation of the great House Tarth, the unwavering reputation of the caring, _nice_ and morally right Evenstar--”

 

“I _do_ ” she interrupted smiling sadly. Gods new she had to deal with that back at home, and that’s certainly an aspect of her beloved island that she _does not_ care for. She could count on a hand the number of people caring for her back there, for _her_ not her reputation or supposed fortune (never mind their ancestral seat is _barely_ surviving by the combined efforts of Ros, Gal and herself) so she can actually understand his predicament. She stood up and placed the chicken and rice on their plates and a big fat glass of water in front of his. “We need to eat, just keep going. I’m still listening, Jaime. Just think you’ll need food for comfort, you know?” she assured him, touching his arm briefly. _It was warm._ Like she was feeling at the moment. She opened a window and rolled up her plaid shirt up to her elbows, undid two buttons too because she was frankly warm, she really needed to check the heating, Winterfell was supposed to be _cold_ and here she was sweating and staring at the way the sweat trickled down Jaime’s neck to his chest…

 

_Gods, she needed to take a grip._

 

Jaime of course, noticed her staring and winked at her, a big delighted smile plastered to his handsome face.

 

He bit the chicken and the wrinkles on his forehead disappeared momentarily, as he tasted the chicken; noticing the significant change she decided the extra workout would be worth it if she too tasted something that was clearly delicious (the chicken, she meant the chicken for fucks sake) and sat opposite him on her tiny kitchen counter.

 

He cleaned his mouth looking for all the world every bit the haughty highborn heir and let out a frustrated sigh “it’s just that ever since I can remember I’ve been Tywin’s son, Tywin’s family, Tywin’s employee…and I’m not sure I’ve come to terms with it all.”

 

The sigh was _adorable_ and Brienne wanted to clean the drops of mustard on his face, maybe lick him clean? Taste him with one of her favorite syrups? She prayed her face didn’t show her traitorous thoughts.

 

“Have you tried imposing new rules?”

 

He blinked back at her.

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“Look, how about you work for Tywin but try to make things work for you too? I used to suggest things to my father and work hard for them and _negotiate,_ let me tell you that man is the most stubborn human being on existence--”

 

“That’s where it comes from, then!” he exclaimed chuckling and helping himself to some more chicken. _Gods, it was delicious. Essosi recipes were the best._

 

“Ha ha, really funny. I won’t treat you to my spectacular advice then,” she said pouting heavily. And he wished she didn’t do that because it made him want to _do things_ to her lips and to Brienne. Things that he was very much wishing to do before the conversation turned serious and now he feels like suggesting.

 

“Sorry, please continue on?”

 

She gave him an imperious look, combined with her big blue eyes it made her look like a judgmental owl. _Brienne, the blue eyed owl._ He’d have to let her know she’d earned a nickname later.

 

She turned impetuously away from him and he chuckled. It seemed incredible the stern woman he knew so well was acting so childlike—

 

“You’re angry!”

 

She huffed and he repressed a laugh.

 

“I’m allowed to act childish too,” she answered, dignified as ever. He rolled his eyes and gathered her on his arms.

 

She let him hold her and put her arms around him too—he sniffed her hair discretely and she relaxed slowly on his arms. A laugh escaped her throat—it seemed she enjoyed joking with him way too much and so he kept up their game by tickling her on the side.

 

“Please, _sweetling_?” he said touching her hand slowly.

 

It left her skin tingling.

 

...It left him wanting to reach out for her. His body, pressed hard against her back was a testimony

 

 

“O-ok. As I was saying…how about you show him you can manage on your own by taking risks and not letting him do everything—“. He rested a hand on the inner part of her leg and ran it up softly higher and higher leaving her slightly breathless; “make him recognize your own skills and—” he squeezed the skin, gave it slow circles back and forth the path he had discovered, she could feel the warm of his fingers through the denim material; it made her gulp “a-and, maybe you could work with the family without feeling like you’re just their--” he started rubbing higher until he found _that place_ and she almost dropped the vase of water all over them “e-employee.”

 

“Jaime!” she exclaimed outraged at his sudden attack. Why he started to attack her when she was clearly giving him _very sound advice_ was beyond her, but she liked where this was _finally_ going.

 

“What?” he asked innocently.

 

 _Two can play the same game_ , he thought smiling at her smugly.

 

“I’ll tell you what,” she said wearing an equal smile. “If you promise to follow my advice we can spend our time differently.” She said earnestly.

 

“How’s that, wench?” he asked, looking at her directly in the eye.

 

“What do _you_ think?” she asked quirking an eyebrow.

 

He grinned back at her. “Well, _in that case_ we can always work on it, can’t we?”

 

 

He reached for her and kissed her fiercely. He took her _so_ very soft hair on his hands, ran his palms over the texture of it and tugged her, gently because he was nothing but a gentleman, and damn if he wasn’t going to make it this be good for them, so good in fact that he’d taste her slowly, thoroughly, have her arching up at him with her body as he tastes her mouth slowly. She closed her eyes and hummed and they did a sort of clash in which they both inched closer and ended up bumping noses like inexpert teenagers, except she was _clearly_ experienced. It made him feel a bit shy, and so he apologized and she whispered back an apology of her own and he decided that tracing the skin of her thigh and whispering encouragingly would be the next course of action when Brienne surprised him by kissing him with a very distinct lack of finesse (there seemed to be little time to waste on such fake politeness) and she smiled deeply when they trailed the way to her room kissing sloppily and he almost tripped on his own bag, misplaced on the tiny space; he chuckled and Brienne pursed her lips when he whispered it was a shame it was such tiny space. When he entered the room they did their best not to tumble on the bed and collapsing on the floor but failed anyway, with Brienne landing on top of him.

 

He decided he didn’t mind. At all.

 

He whispered “you taste so good” and she wrapped herself tighter, her legs anchored to either side of him on the floor as they kissed and kissed until her lips were red and swollen and he proceeded to unbutton her shirt and helping her out of her jeans with much difficulty as they would stop to kiss again and he _wanted her_ so badly that he felt like he would burst out of his clothes…when he finally had her bare and she covered her breasts, cheeks warming he chuckled.

 

“Where’s my haughty wench? Don’t cover yourself up, s _weetling.” Show me your body please._

 

“Okay.” She breathed in and out visibly and he gave her a fond smile because _seeing her_ so thoroughly ruffled and _shy_ makes him feel many things, the first of them being _that he wants to learn how much he can see this side of her_ and he wasn’t about to enumerate them at the moment (the things he wanted to do with her were far too many and most of them didn’t involve _this)_ because the look on Brienne’s face is enough to send a jolt of pleasure through his back and—she gives him a tiny smile, a quirk of the lips that is both confidence and coyness at once—and he gives her a predatory smile as a result _._

 

She kept looking at him and standing in the light she said “I think I’m allowed to exchange some of my nudity with a bit of yours,” she replied, standing tall and showing him precisely the view that he had been missing on when she was covering her body with clothing. Her strong, built body with such smooth skin…he wanted to taste it all and mark it with kisses and gentle bites.

 

He stood back admiring her in the light—the figure she cut was almost all lines and angles, there was very little softness in her body, mostly the gentle curve of her small rounded breasts, the roundness of her long legs that went on for days, although they were mostly muscled they had a certain softness to them, the freckles painting her clavicle stark against pale skin…it made her shine.

 

 She made a show of putting the lights out and he stopped her.

 

“No, _with the lights on please._ ” She frowned, tracing the pattern of her cheek, before nodding bravely. And he sighed when he felt her eyes rake him over, moving from his feet and chest to his face as she bit her lip.

 

One of her hands came to rest on his bare thigh as she sat again, eyes flitting over his face.

 

“I’d never thought you’ll be so shy” he said, because it baffled him how such a brilliant, kind, _stupidly hot_ woman like Brienne could be so shy in private—he guessed he wasn’t as observant as he thought.

 

“It’s been a while” she replied. Now that she was sitting again it was obvious she was trembling slightly. Her voice also sounded shaky so he squeezed her hand and placed a kiss there that transformed into many more kisses until they ended up horizontal and Brienne laughed as she flipped them and saw the _shocked_ look in his eyes.

 

 _And oh. It made sense. He did never thought things very thoroughly._ So he kissed her hands slowly, softly and when he explored her she turned her heated stare on him and placed him firmly were she wanted it and he felt himself _melting_ to her.

 

 

*

 

_It didn’t took long but Brienne felt like she had gone to the moon and back._

 

 

 

 

He chuckled when, at the end they were lazily kissing on her bed and he realized the cd kept playing. He separated from her briefly, because he was _Jaime_ and he was obnoxious and irresistible (he needed to keep up his appearances) and gave her a questioning glance “I like this new song better,” he said, drowning in her eyes and drifting off to the sound of the music.

 

( _Say you won’t let go_ …)

 

She put a pillow over his head and smacked him with it.

 

“Don’t. Make. Fun. Of. My. Music,” she said pointing at his chest with her finger.

He laughed. “I wasn’t, I actually like ballads and cheesy songs as much as you do.”

 

She huffed and he retaliated by licking slowly the proffered finger and she turned a very interesting shade of red.

 

“ _Tease!_ ” she accused him laughing at him.

 

Up close, if he concentrated enough, looked close enough her eyes were so clear, almost a grey color; hers were the color of a clear, clear sky. And he found himself wanting to soar through it.

 

He told her “sometimes I drown on your eyes” and she blinked at him, looking at him uncertainly.

 

_Had her eyes not been complimented enough? She ought to be complimented more times, her eyes and her strength, her dozen of freckles; someone ought to show her what she’s really like. Could it be me? Could I really make her justice with my words?_

He grabs her face on his hands “don’t you get bashful on me now, you deserve praise, Brienne. You’re…gods, words don’t do you justice Brienne.”

 

She looks at him and just nods, like she can barely _understand_ what he means, because although he’s being pretty straightforward that’s hard to process and he wonders if maybe, just maybe, Brienne isn’t as strong armored as he thinks she is.

 

“You’re…incredible Jaime.” she paused, struggling for words through the exhaustion of her body. “I want you to know that I’m never knowing anyone like you…that I know I have many responsibilities and a tight schedule but no one’s going to take your place. And that I don’t expect you to _wait for me_ ” She said earnestly and he feels helpless. Helplessly drown to Brienne, like ever since he walked through that bar so many weeks ago.

 

“Is that what I think you’re saying?” he asks, because he wanted, _he needed_ the confirmation that she was on the same wavelength that he was. If not, the wise thing would be to walk out. Before they hurt each other like he has experienced before with Cersei.

 

“I think so. Yes. It means I-”

 

“I love you Brienne. Don’t look at me so scared just because I said it. I’m being very serious about it. As a matter of a fact, I’ve been very serious about us for a while and we both know it” He said, scrutinizing her eyes and her face overall. She looked slightly paler and he could felt she was more tense than usual on his arms, but before long she blinked and gave him a small unconscious smile.

 

“I’m not scared, I’m honestly just _worried_ you’ll think I’ll take advantage of you. Because I care so much Jaime, I really do. I just don’t think I can say something like that, _be as spontaneous_ as you are. It’s just not something I do easily.” She was looking as her hands like she was worried he would think badly of her. _As if he could._ So he reassured her with a nod. He knew she was only shy and the leap of faith they were both making was a big one.

 

“Good, now that we cleared this up, we could discuss baby names--” he started because he was _enjoying_ the way she would act if he riled her up enough.

 

“Jaime! I thought we agreed after this we’d set a more regular pace, less time-jumping events please. Next time you’ll ask me to marry you or something--”

 

He rolled his eyes, Brienne could be _so dense_ and he wasn’t a patient man. “You know I will eventually, right?—we could have a wedding themed with the whole bar stuff. Could marry at a bar with everyone wearing jeans, I wouldn’t care less as long as we’re together.”

 

It seemed his fervor had rendered her speechless.

 

“ _Come on, Brienne._ We’re _together._ And it’s serious.” He pointed again, because with her stubbornness he could hardly expect her to believe him so easily. It wasn’t that Brienne didn’t trust him but that they clearly knew very little of one another. However, it didn’t matter much that theirs was a sudden relationship or not, after all life wasn’t made to work strictly in time.

 

“All I’m saying is…Just give me time to assimilate your eagerness. Don’t look at me like that,” she said, referring to his crestfallen expression. “I’m serious too about us. _But we have stuff to do._ I have a father and three siblings in dire need of my support.”

 

“I do.”

 

A very sudden, very traitorous yawn was let out by Jaime and Brienne chuckled.

 

“ _Someone’s sleepy,”_ she said snuggling up to him. He put his arm around her and sniffled her hair—she smelled very little like the citric fragrance he smelt when he arrived, she smelled like sweat and _him._ He guessed he smelled like she did too. It was a pleasant thought.

 

“Of course I am, _what with all the exertion_ that went here during the night.”

 

“We’ll speak later, okay?” she asked stifling a yawn too. It had been a _very long_ day and she needed to sleep _now_ or else she might faint the next day instead of packing her stuff.

“It’s a deal then?” he said smiling warmly.

 

“It’s a deal.” She said smiling back.

 

He pressed a kiss to the tip of her nose and nestled on her arms.

 


End file.
